


Second Time Around

by mountain_ash



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Could Be Canon, Fanart, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Nightmares, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Young Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-04-29 04:18:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5115503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mountain_ash/pseuds/mountain_ash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles finally learns why Derek has always been so important, discovers he's magical, and accidentally brings a young Derek forward in time.</p><p>OR</p><p>A canon-compliant story version for the time traveling Stiles theory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to thehyacinthgirl for betaing my second work and helping me work out the kinks ahead of time!
> 
> Possible trigger warnings: there is some suicidal/self-harm behavior in this chapter, even though it's only in dream-context.

Everything was wrong. Theo wasn’t supposed to die. The bullet was supposed to be a normal bullet. Stiles was just trying to distract Theo long enough for Malia to get away. He didn’t know Theo had loaded the gun with special bullets designed to kill the Beast. He thought Theo would just get hurt and they could get away. He thought. He thought. He thought. Wrong.

 

Now Stiles couldn’t look at Malia. And he couldn’t look at Scott. And he couldn’t look at himself. Scott had called him non-stop when he had run from the battle in the horror that he had ended another life, but he refused to pick up. He refused to let them find him, so he ran to the loft. They wouldn’t expect him to go there.

 

Stiles wasn’t sure how long he had been there, drifting in and out of nightmares even though he didn't know if he ever actually fell asleep, but suddenly his phone was blaring loudly and this time it was his father's name on the screen.

 

"Dad?" He spoke weakly into the phone.

 

"Stiles! My god where are you? Do you have any idea how long you've been gone?"

 

His father sounded terrified. He couldn't bring himself to care. "No." He said despondently. His father sighed heavily, shakily, as though he were desperately holding back sobs of relief and anger.

 

“Stiles where are you?”

 

“I don’t want to see anyone.”

 

“You don’t have to. I just want to know you’re safe.”

 

He could give his father that much. He had stayed out of his business this far. “I’m at Derek’s loft.”

 

“I should have guessed.” All Stiles heard was his father breathing through the phone for a few moments. “Are you going to be at school tomorrow?”

 

So it was Sunday already. “I don’t think so.”

 

“Are you going to talk to someone about this?”

 

Stiles released a burdened sigh, as though his lungs had suddenly been deflated. “Talk to who, dad?” Another pause. “Exactly.”

 

“I’m here for you, Stiles. Please don’t forget that.” He had.

 

“Bye Dad.”

 

An hour later the doorbell rang. Stiles ignored it. It rang again. And a third time.

 

Suddenly a muffled voice came through the door. “The order request says I’m not supposed to stop ringing until you open up.”

 

Stiles stood stiffly from the bed, surprisingly aware of how much he smelled all of a sudden. Opening the door, he found a Chinese delivery man. “I don’t have anything for tip.”

 

The man looked him up and down, understanding in his eyes as he handed Stiles the bag. “Taken care of.”

 

Stiles nodded and closed the door. He put the food in the fridge and forgot about it.

 

Darkness filled his mind not long after that, before it was replaced by images and scenes that he couldn’t remember when he shot awake in cold, shivering sweats.

 

He didn’t go to school on Monday and still hadn’t remembered the Chinese food.

 

Lydia and Mason came that evening, letting themselves in the door he’d forgotten to lock. Lydia heated up the abandoned Chinese and Mason supported Stiles’s rapidly wasting figure up to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Lydia brought the food to him and he ate on the floor just outside the bathroom.

 

Kira came after they left and brought him the homework he’d missed, fed him some more, and got him to shave.

 

Liam came last and got him to take a bath. Stiles expected him to leave after that. Hoped really, but Liam wasn’t afraid of Stiles’s anger.

 

“You have to go to school tomorrow.”

 

“Why?”

 

“You have a math test.”

 

“I’m going to fail.”

 

“You’re brilliant, Stiles. You’ll be fine. School’s good for you. You like school.” Liam dug in his backpack for a minute before handing a folder and plastic bag to Stiles. “I brought you Lydia’s notes and a change of clothes.” Stiles nodded and Liam left.

 

Lydia was there to pick him up for school the next day, but the second he stepped into class and saw Malia look up at him he turned right around and bolted for the bathroom to throw up the too-large breakfast Lydia had made him eat.

 

When he braved going back, Ms. Brown looked at him inquisitively. “Are you alright, Stiles?”

 

“Um yeah. Not quite over the food poisoning is all.” That was apparently the excuse his father had come up with to explain his absence and noticeable weight loss.

 

She nodded and he took a seat as far from Malia and Scott as he could find.

 

He managed to avoid them through the day, but he was sure that was only because they were letting him. The look he had seen on Malia’s face right before he’d run from the room had told him everything he needed to know. She was grateful to him. Logically it made sense because she was alive, but he couldn’t stomach it. She was only alive because he’d killed Theo, just like he was only alive because he had killed Donovan. There was blood on their existences and he couldn’t face it.

 

Scott was a different story entirely. Scott didn’t blame him for killing Theo, although he had blamed him for killing Donovan despite it being exactly the same scenario. Scott rarely listened to him when it mattered, and this time had been no exception.

 

He finally went home that night and his dad yelled at him and it felt so good that he cried and the sheriff just held him and they just sat that way until Stiles fell asleep, spent from it all. Finding peace with his father didn’t hold the nightmares at bay though, and Stiles found himself screaming awake in his bed a few hours later, trying desperately to remember what about the dreams terrified him so deeply.

 

It went on that way on and off for a few more weeks before it truly began escalating and the Sheriff gave Stiles his coffee one Friday morning and began speaking like he was stepping on glass.

 

“I called Deaton last night.”

 

Stiles looked up sharply, barely constrained horror in his eyes. “Why?”

 

“To see if he knows anyone who can help you. He says Ms. Morrell can talk with you.”

 

Stiles’s lip curled in surprising animosity. The last time he had seen her she had given him illegal drugs and all but promised to kill him. “I don’t want her help.”

 

“Just try Stiles. We can’t go through this again.”

 

And that is how Stiles found himself sitting in Marin Morrell’s office the next day, matching her impassive stare with his own storming gaze.

 

“I hear you’re not doing well, Stiles.” He never understood how she somehow managed deadpan more completely than Deaton.

 

The peel of laughter that escaped his mouth hurt his throat. “That’s an understatement.”

“Tell me about it.”

 

“I killed two chimeras in the last month and a half. Both on accident.”

 

“Killing someone can eat at you. Chew a hole right through your being.”

 

“Or turn an existing hole into a crater.”

 

“Are you talking about the Nogistune?”

 

Stiles sighed. How did she always make him talk so easily. “I don’t know what I’m talking about. All I know is that I’m having these nightmares and I can’t remember what they’re about but they’re horrible, and I can’t look at myself in the mirror without seeing Theo, and I can’t look at Malia without wanting to vomit, and I can’t look at Scott without wanting to cry.”

 

“Do you feel guilty for killing Theo?”

 

Did he feel guilty? The automatic answer to that was yes, but he wasn’t really sure. Killing was sometimes necessary, even in human situations. He knew that from his dad. Deadly force and all. But he hadn’t even intended to kill Theo, so guilt wasn’t how to describe it. “I don’t know what to call it.” He whispered.

 

“Can you describe it?”

 

“I feel separated. Like who I was is drifting around me but not in me. Almost as if killing changed me too much for it to get back in, so it just hangs about me and I can’t hold onto it and put it back in, but I can’t make it go away either.”

 

“Do you want it to?"

 

Stiles closed his eyes and thought about that. Did he want to be his old self again? "No? I don’t think I liked myself before either. I just wish I didn’t have to lose it altogether."

 

“Is that what your nightmares are about?”

 

Stiles shook his head helplessly clenching his fingers tightly as if attempting to hold something he couldn’t grasp. “I don’t know. I can’t remember them. All I know is that they’re horrible. I wake up in cold sweats screaming just like I used to after the Nemeton.”

 

Ms. Morrell closed her eyes and sat quiet for a moment, nodding her head up and down slowly, deep in thought. Stiles studied her as he waited, dissecting her calm features with his anxious mind, wondering at how he could never seem to phase her. She was too like Deaton and nothing like him at all. They shared the same serene nature, totally unflappable in the face of everything they saw, but Ms. Morrell had more steel in her than Deaton. Where Deaton showed traces of fear and uncertainty, Ms. Morrell’s facade never failed, as though she had done exactly what she had told him to do the year before: gone through Hell. Stiles was convinced, though, that Morrell hadn’t simply been through Hell, but charged through it and come out having left skeletons behind her.

 

“Are you prepared to do something dangerous to fix this?” She spoke, breaking through his speculations.

 

“Yes.”

 

“I acquired a clock along my travels that was passed down through a family of witches for many centuries. They imbued the pendulum with magic that grants the people placed under its hypnotic trance the ability to participate in the memories of their dreams. This technique takes getting used to, so the first time we use it, I just want you to explore the dream you enter. See what you can learn about yourself from it.”

 

“Am I going to think it’s as terrifying as I seem to when I’m asleep?”

 

“You might. I’ve only done this with one other person, but her dreams were more innocuous than yours seem to be. I am fairly sure that you should at least be aware that what you’re seeing isn’t real.”

 

Stiles nodded stiffly. “Alright, let’s get going then.”

 

Ms. Morrell disappeared into a large closet only to reemerge a minute later holding a small wooden box. Setting it on the table in front of Stiles she pulled out a tiny grandfather clock about the size of his hand. The clock sat nested on four elegantly curving legs and a small gold pendulum hung freely below.

 

“When I begin I want you to watch the pendulum move and listen to my instructions. Everything else will happen from there.”

 

“Okay. I’m ready.”

 

She tapped the pendulum and Stiles stared as it began swinging rhythmically side-to-side. He was vaguely aware that she was speaking, instructing him to remember the first nightmare he had after killing Theo, but it blended into the echoing tic-tocking of the clock in his head, and abruptly he found himself at The Church, standing over himself kneeling over Derek’s prone figure, futilely attempting to hold the blood in with his hands.

 

He couldn’t seem to hear anything, but he saw the moment Derek told him to go save Scott and his dream self hesitantly turned away to run for the Church. Dream Stiles turned back several times, as though trying to ensure Derek hadn’t bled out yet, but the last time he turned not only was Derek dead, but he had faded away entirely. Sound still did not exist but Stiles watched as Dream Stiles screamed Derek’s name and ran back to where Derek had just vanished, grabbed a knife that had presumably fallen from Derek’s pocket and began stabbing himself with it repeatedly.

 

Stiles watched in horror as his dream self fell to the ground but still managed to inflict puncture wound after puncture wound, tears careening down his cheeks. Malia was there screaming at Dream Stiles, presumably to stop, but his kneeling form just shook his head as though possessed, continuing to stab at himself. Forgetting his instructions to not try and interfere this time, Stiles tried screaming to stop, stop or he would die, but the words died on his lips. He tried grabbing the knife, but his hand passed right through the handle.

 

Stiles was pulled from the dream when the ticking of the pendulum abruptly halted, not screaming this time, but crying profusely.

 

"I couldn't stop him." He choked out. "Myself. I- he was killing himself and couldn't seem to stop and I didn't mean to but I tried to stop him but I couldn't anything."

 

"Why were you killing yourself?" Ms. Morrell asked, totally unphased.

 

"I was at the Church and Derek was dying and I didn't want to leave him but then he made me and then I turned around and he just disappeared and I completely went berserk."

 

“Stiles, breathe. Have some water.” She held him a glass and he gulped down the liquid thirstily. “You said he wasn’t able to stop himself?”

 

Stiles shook his head, breathing more steadily now. “It didn’t seem like it. He looked terrified and he was crying, and then Malia was there trying to get him to stop and he kept shaking his head like he couldn’t.”

 

“Interesting. Would you like to go in one more time today? Do you feel up for it?”

 

“Yeah, let’s do it. Will I be able to participate this time? Isn’t that the whole point of this?”

 

“You should have been able to last time. I’m not exactly sure why you weren’t able to to be honest.”

 

Stiles rolled his eye. “Why is everything always a fucking mystery?” He muttered to himself.

 

He fell into his dream just as before, but he wasn’t at The Church this time. He stood in his bedroom doorway, watching his dream self fighting the Nogitsune as it set the chess board. Stiles remembered that day.

“Stop making me do this.” Dream Stiles was pleading.

 

“You can’t make me do anything.” Came the fox demon’s chilling tone in reply.

 

“I don’t want to hurt them. You can’t make me hurt them.”

 

“I’m not going to hurt them.” The Nogitsune said, writing a final name on a slip of paper. “I’m going to use them.” Dream Nogitsune pressed Derek’s name to the king of the chessboard. “And I won’t even have to try with him, because he’ll protect you until he dies.”

 

“No, no. Derek will kill me. He’ll know it’s what needs to happen and he’ll kill me.”

 

“We’ll see.”

 

Suddenly they were in the loft and Stiles watched as his dad, Derek, Chris, and Allison walked in. This felt less like a nightmare and more like a memory. Admittedly they were one in the same sometimes. He remembered seeing Derek and thrashing about within his mind, trying desperately to dislodge the Nogitsune just long enough to tell Derek to kill him. Stiles watched the fear shine through his features for one fleeting moment before the Nogitsune took control again.

 

He stood beside Derek and watched as Chris threatened to kill Dream Stiles and his father threatened to kill him and Allison yelled at them to stop and Derek just stood there. Why wasn't he killing him? Why hadn't he killed him in that moment? Why had he never asked? He had wanted to die, he remembered that. He had trusted Derek to end his life, just as he'd saved it so many times before, but Derek had failed him.

 

Stiles remembered that he could fix that here though. He could finally make Derek kill him like he hadn't been able to before. Derek could save them all if he could just be a little stronger than he had been back then.

 

"Kill him, Derek." He spoke near Derek's ear. "You need to kill him. End this. Don't let him lose himself."

 

But Derek didn't do anything. He continued to watch on in paralyzed fear, totally unaware of Stiles by his side whispering commands in his ear.

 

"Kill him." Stiles spoke more urgently, frustrated tears falling from his eyes. No response came from Derek. “Why can’t I do this?” Stiles asked himself with a broken voice. “Why can’t I do this?”

 

And then he was sitting in Ms. Morrell’s office once more, rocking back and forth, muttering the question over and over.

“Stiles. Stiles!” She was gripping his wrist tightly. “Stiles you’re back.”

 

His eyes shot open at the skin contact and he blinked rapidly to bring her into focus. The remains of the memory shook from him slowly as he listened to her repetitive and soothing voice telling him to breath steadily.

 

“Okay. I’m okay.” Stiles took a ragged breath. “Can we not do that again today?”

 

Ms. Morrell smiled softly at him. “No, you don’t have to go back in today, but we need to talk about what you saw.”

 

Stiles directed a withering glare her direction, but sighed in defeat and drank more of the water she offered him. He had long ago grown accustomed to the emissaries always being right. The words rushed out of him as he made a great effort to tell Ms. Morrell everything without letting the memories seep right back into his bones. Only once his recounting wound down did Stiles realize the common themes.

 

“Oh.” He said, cringing slightly at the embarrassment of that realization. “Derek. I am having recurrent dreams about Derek.”

 

Ms. Morrell shook her head. “Not just about Derek. Needing Derek.” Stiles didn’t like how much emphasis she put on ‘needing’ one bit.

 

“I don’t need Derek.” He shot back sullenly.

 

“What has happened to you both times he’s left?”

 

Those weren’t concurrent events Stiles enjoyed dwelling upon, so naturally he had shunted them back to the farthest reaches of his mind and Ms. Morrell forcing him to acknowledge the connection only fueled his embarrassment.

 

“I lose myself.” Stiles clenched his hands around the denim of his jeans in frustration. “That’s pathetic. I’m pathetic. You mean to tell me I can’t hold myself together because a grumpy-ass werewolf walked out of my life?”

 

Ms. Morrell fixed him with possibly the most sympathetic look he had ever seen grace her features and it looked to almost pain her. “Can I ask how you would describe your relationship with Derek?”

 

“We didn’t have one.” Stiles ignored the way that made his stomach clench painfully.

 

“Don’t lie to me, Stiles.” Her eyebrow had arched in a rather unimpressed fashion, and he squirmed a bit.

“Well we weren’t friends, if that’s what you mean. We planned together, fought together, mourned together, but we weren’t friends.”

 

“Those sound like things friends do together. Were you closer than friends?”

 

Stiles’s eyes widened at that while his stomach twisted painfully. Had he and Derek been closer than friends? Deep within his being Stiles wished he could say so. Wished he could say he had been brave enough to tell Derek how important he was to him, how badly he wanted to keep him close. Since the disaster that was the Kanima he knew Derek meant more to him than an occasional ally or fleeting friend, but he could never pin down what it was he wanted of the man. Most times he had felt a low-burning sense of urgency surrounding Derek, as though he needed to be near him, see him, touch him, but too often the urgency had been overpowered by some unbearable sense of impossibility with the whole thing.

 

“I don’t know.” Stiles shook his head. “I have no idea what we were. He was always just there and I knew what he would say and he knew how to react to me. He was a constant and we had balance.”

 

Ms. Morrell nodded. “Did Derek make you feel stronger, Stiles?”

 

“I suppose. He never expected anything of me, but I just always felt like I could do what I needed to do when he was here.”

 

She gave him a long, considering look before speaking. “I have some theories about why your nightmares affect you so strongly, but I need to check on some things. Try to get some rest and come back tomorrow morning at 9, please.”

 

Stiles did not wake rested, but he also did not wake screaming and sobbing so regardless of the fact he did not seem to be able to use Ms. Morrell’s hypnosis device properly, the process perhaps was helping anyway. She greeted him at the door to her office and he entered to find Deaton sitting in her chair. Stiles released a suffering sigh at the sight. As much as he respected Deaton, his presence usually meant things were more complicated than they seemed.

 

“Stiles. Good to see you.”

 

“What’s this about?”

 

“Do you remember when I told you that you were important to setting the mountain ash two years ago, in order to trap the kanima?”

 

“Yeah. You said I had to light the spark in me with belief. Why’s that matter?”

 

“Well if setting the ash was all you did it wouldn't be interesting, but Scott told me what you did and I had suspicions you did more than you should have been able to. When Marin told me that you said Derek made you feel stronger, I had more faith in my suppositions.”

 

“Which are?” Deaton always took frustratingly long to get to the point.

 

“You made an almost impossible amount of mountain ash stretch a very long distance with your eyes closed, a feat that is technically not possible without something a little stronger than human belief behind it. There is also the matter of keeping Derek, heavier than you and completely limp with paralysis, afloat for two hours. You also mentioned once that you kept Scott restrained while Derek gave him his tattoo and that you have successfully restrained Malia several times, along with Brett and Liam.”

 

Stiles felt like his head was swirling. He remembered those times with great clarity but what was Deaton implying?

 

“Are you saying I’m not human?”

 

Deaton chuckled, of all things. “No, no. You’re very human. It’s just that you’re a slightly more magical human than I originally thought.”

 

“Magic?” He was officially numb. This wasn’t happening.

 

“Yes. Which brings me to my second point. What were you thinking about all those times you exhibited greater than typical strength.”

 

Stiles thought for a moment, though for most of them he already knew the answer. “Um, well with the mountain ash I wasn’t really thinking about anything except that it needed to work. When I kept Derek from drowning, I was thinking about Derek. When I kept Malia from killing me I was thinking about not dying. When I stopped her from destroying the Deadpool, I was worried destroying it would mean Derek would die. And when I restrained Liam, Scott, and Brett I was thinking about needing to help Derek.” A heavy sigh pushed its way from his chest. “Derek.”

 

Deaton crossed his arms, completely self-satisfied. “Just as werewolves have anchors that help them control their shifts, people with magic must also have anchors. Earlier you described Derek as a constant, someone who will always be there and respond the way you need, and I believe you have translated that external consistency into a means of internal control. The problem lies in-”

 

“When Derek isn’t here.” Stiles finished.

 

“Stiles, I believe you are something called a Spark. It is something that occasionally comes into being when a human performs such a vital role in a werewolf pack. Werewolves get their powers from their own spark, and sometimes that spark is unconsciously shared with humans in order to protect them. I believe that early on your Spark was fueled by Scott, because even though you weren’t his anchor, you helped keep him safe, but as the mutuality of your relationship with Derek grew, his Spark began to supercede Scott’s. Typically such a connection would not have gone unnoticed, but your abilities were never terribly obvious, though I’m not sure why. With Derek gone, the Spark in you lacks a source of control and it is reaching out for it, which is the cause of your nightmares.”

 

“So this is going to keep happening as long as Derek is gone?” The dread was building in Stiles’s core, chilling him deep and making his heart feel heavy. Derek wasn’t going to come back, he felt sure of that somehow. He had never meant as much to Derek as Derek had meant to him and he was horribly aware of that fact.

 

“I don’t think it has to. I would say that your Spark could adjust to derive from Scott again, but given that that hasn’t happened in either of the times Derek has left, I think you are too tightly anchored to him for that to be a possibility. That being the case, I believe you need to go back into your dreams again, but this time you are going to focus on that spark, just like you did when you set the mountain ash, in order to manipulate your dreams and gain control again. If you can’t have Derek physically present to anchor your spark you are going to have to learn to use the idea of Derek as an anchor, similar to how werewolves use the idea of people or emotions to anchor their shifts. Perhaps if you can succeed in your dreams, the nightmares will settle and then we can focus on teaching you how to use it properly so that this doesn’t happen again.”

 

“Why are you being so forthcoming with all this information? Usually you seem hesitant to tell us the complete story.” It shouldn’t matter, but Deaton being so open worried Stiles.

 

“Sparks can be dangerous Stiles, even when they are in control. Your Spark was not the reason the Nogitsune was able to possess you, that was technically Kira’s powers, but it is the reason the Nogitsune was so powerful. Your mind was in pain and chaos because your Spark had no anchor, and those are the things the Nogitsune feeds on. It’s unlikely you will be possessed again, but uncontrolled Sparks can morph in ugly ways, similar to the shift of an emissary into a darach.”

 

Stiles breathed deeply for a few moments. He could handle this. He could handle learning that not only was Derek significantly more important to him than he had thought, but that he had magical powers that could turn evil. He could handle going into his dreams one more time and making it turn out how he wanted. He could.

 

“Let’s do it, then.”

 

Sitting once more on the couch listening to Ms. Morrell’s soothing voice ebbing and flowing with the rhythmic ticking of clock until he felt he could almost see the sound waves of her voice swirling around the oscillating pendulum. Then he was standing outside the burnt hull of the Hale house, his feet crunching in leaves, and that was new. He hadn’t made sound before. Derek’s house had always creeped him out, but it was more frightening than usual, and it suddenly occurred to him that this was the first time he could smell it in the air. The acrid smell of burnt wood and plastic seeping into the surroundings. This wasn’t the Hale house he knew; this was the Hale house right after it burned down.

 

A dull pressure filled his being and Stiles somehow knew to follow it inside, where he found Derek in a room on the second story. He was the young boy Stiles had met the year before when Kate had returned him to a young state, but he was not the same. Shadows clung heavily beneath his tear-reddened eyes and he sat slumped pitifully against a half-destroyed wall drinking from a bottle of vodka turned purple with wolfsbane. Ms. Morrell said this dream was from the night Stiles’s father had decided to ask for help. The night he’d woken crying and sobbing and almost suffocating himself in his pillow. In this dream, Derek was trying to kill himself.

 

“Derek please don’t.” Derek didn’t respond, and Stiles remembered that wasn’t going to work. He looked deep within himself and found the Spark sitting in his throat, a heat writhing where it was trapped within him, burning his throat and making his eyes sting. Kneeling in front of Derek Stiles reached out and gently grasped the bottle, believing as strongly as he could that he could save Derek. Suddenly Derek’s eyes flickered up and met his and Stiles almost choked on the sadness and fear in them, wishing desperately that he could take the grieving, lonely boy with him away from this horrible place in his mind. The bottle slipped from Derek’s hand to Stiles’s and he set it down before replacing it with his own hand.

  
“Let’s go. You shouldn’t be here.” His voice was still audible and he gained confidence as he pulled Derek to stand before leading him out the bedroom door. Outside the door was not the Hale house, however, but the familiar office where Ms. Morrell and Deaton stared at him incredulously. A heavy weight in his hand drew Stiles from his post-hypnotic daze and he turned to find that there beside him sat teenage Derek staring back at him in astonishment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is going to have a healthy portion of angst (as you can tell from this chapter), but it'll be cuter and more fun with young Derek in the picture. Also, comments are always appreciated so I can know your thoughts! I'll have the next chapter up ASAP!
> 
> Thanks to [this](http://darachmoon.tumblr.com/post/115512266653/hello-i-love-reading-your-meta-but-there-is-a) post for helping me gather together many of Stiles's superhuman feats.
> 
> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to thehyacinthgirl for being a great beta!

Stiles would have thought this was some sort of hallucination, but he knew it wasn’t. Deep in his veins Stiles could feel the seething energy within him calm to a near-blissful warmth the longer he stared at the young Derek beside him. It didn’t seem important that he had just brought a person forward through time, only that a version of his anchor was sitting beside him and suddenly he felt calm.

 

“What did you do?” Ms. Morrell’s voice cut painfully through his peaceful haze and he turned his head sharply toward her. The motion seemed to break Derek from his own stupor and his eyebrows furrowed suddenly in frightened anger.

 

“Where the hell am I? Who are you all?”

 

Stiles felt his attempted smile fail at an uncomfortable grimace. “Um, you’re in, uh, the future. I guess. It’s October 7, 2012.”

 

Derek’s eyes widened in disbelief. “2012? That’s impossible.”

 

Stiles opened his mouth, chasing trains of thought through his mind as he struggled to come up with a coherent explanation. Luckily, Ms. Morrell had that covered.

 

“Stiles,” she began, gesturing at him, “has magical abilities that originate from your werewolf spark in this time. I am an emissary and have been trying to help him with some nightmares using hypnosis and through this hypnosis he appears to have accidentally pulled you out of your time and brought you here.”

 

Derek rubbed his fingers roughly against his forehead for a moment and Stiles waited for the rage fueled outburst about ‘how could he be so stupid?’ but it didn’t come. Instead Derek turned a quizzical eye on him and Stiles’s breath almost caught at how almost-serene he looked, as though he was grateful for the interruption to the grief-filled existence of his present.

 

“You know me in the future?” He looked so hopeful.

 

“Yeah.” Stiles didn’t know if he should say more.

 

Derek bit his lip nervously, and Stiles wished he could reach out and hold his hand, but he resisted the impulse. “Am I- Is he here?” Stiles felt his heart take off painfully and Derek looked at him oddly. “He's not, is he?”

 

Stiles shook his head. “I don't know where he is.” It came out hardly a whisper, as though he was barely strong enough to make the admission aloud at all.

 

“You shouldn't see him anyway.” Ms. Morrell cut in. “We don't know what it would do to the timeline if you encountered one another.”

 

“We need to figure out how to send him back.” Deaton finished.

 

“What?” His voice came out high with anxiety at the suggestion. It really was obvious, when he thought about it. Though he wasn't sure what would happen if he didn't, he knew he had to put Derek back.

 

“I know a Spark who owes me a favor. I'll have her come down so we know what we're dealing with.”

 

“And what are you going to do me until then?” Derek looked rather unimpressed by all this, as though after the initial shock, he could care less that he had just been pulled out of his own time and dragged to the future by a strange boy with crazy magical powers. When Stiles thought about it, he imagined that perhaps this was a relief for Derek: a break from the bleak existence that was his burnt house, depressed alpha sister, and crushing guilt.

 

“You'll stay with me.” Said Deaton. “It'll draw less attention. And you'll need to try to conceal who you are in public. Wear hoods, hats, sunglasses, whatever. There are still people in this town who will recognize you and we can't have that.”

 

“Why can't I stay with Stiles?”

 

Stiles blinked rapidly. Derek choosing him, totally unprompted, was like a dream come true. It was, however, not a good idea.

 

“My dad already does a lot for us on the supernatural front. Asking him to take on an indefinite house guest is too much for me to ask of him right now.” Even though his Eichen bills had been forgiven, his dad’s recent stint in the hospital was another hefty bill, even with a Sheriff’s insurance. As much as he wanted Derek to stay with them, he couldn't ask his still-recovering father to shoulder the financial burden.

 

Derek looked like he wanted to argue but seemed to think better of it. Suddenly his face clouded over and Stiles didn't want to hear what he had to say next.

 

“What- what about Laura? Why can’t she take me?” His voice was choked as if he was fighting back tears, like he already knew the answer to the question. Not knowing what to say, Stiles looked helplessly at Ms. Morrell and she came to his aid.

 

“Derek, Laura was killed a few years ago by a rogue wolf. I’m so sorry.”

 

“No. No!” Tears pricked at the corners of Derek’s eyes, and he folded in on himself where he sat on the couch, shaking with the force of new grief. Stiles couldn’t think of anything to say, so he simply reached out and squeezed one of Derek’s trembling shoulders. The tremors eased eventually and Derek lifted his head weakly to reveal reddened eyes. “So I’m all alone then?”

 

“Not anymore. You found people. Good people.” It was true. Or at least it had become true. He had come to peace with what Kate had done to him, forged a bond with Chris, taught Scott most of what he knew about werewolves, helped Malia learn to harness her powers in human form, and generally helped keep the pack grounded and together.

 

Deaton cleared his throat then and Stiles jumped.

 

“I’m sorry to force you along, but we should get working on sorting this out.” Deaton’s stoic nature always had a way of interfering at inappropriate times. “Marin needs to call in that favor and I would like to get Derek settled in before the week starts up again.”

 

“Oh, right. Uh, could I take Derek with me for a while? I can let my dad meet him to explain the situation and lend him some clothes to borrow.”

 

“That’s fine with me if Derek is okay with it.”

 

Derek swiped some tears from his cheeks with his palm and smiled weakly. “That sounds good.” Stiles realized he still had his hand on Derek’s shoulder when he leaned into it as though it grounded his raving emotions just as much as Stiles realized it was grounding his.

 

“Is this even safe?” Derek asked skeptically as he eyed the shoddily repaired Jeep outside Ms. Morrell’s office.

 

Without even thinking, Stiles slapped Derek in the chest with the back of his hand, “Jeep’s are quality automobiles, you got that?”

 

Derek furrowed his eyebrows and jutted his lower jaw out in amused surprise. “Is this how you are with the older me? Like, is this how we are?”

 

His heart rate picked up notably and he sighed, knowing Derek would be able to tell the question made him nervous. He _had_ been like that with Derek and he slipped into the behavior so easily with his younger self. It made him feel strangely guilty, but he also couldn’t see why he should treat this Derek differently. To do so wouldn’t serve any purpose other than to make him more upset that he couldn’t have his Derek- the grumpy, sarcastic, and stubborn Derek who made his days better and nights easier.

 

“Yeah, that’s kind of how we were with each other.”

 

“Do you want me to be like that?”

 

Stiles turned his head from the road briefly to shoot a startled glance at Derek. The idea that Derek might be so broken down by what Kate did to him, and now the knowledge of his sister’s death, that he was asking Stiles how he should be scared him.

 

“I want you to be yourself. Just be yourself.”

 

They sat in silence the rest of the trip and Stiles was glad at how easy it was, just as it had been with his Derek. There was suddenly that matter as well; he was suddenly calling the present version of Derek ‘his Derek’ even though that had never been the case. He maybe had Derek's Spark but he certainly didn't have Derek.

 

“Why are you so sad?” Derek's voice shook him from his train of thought.

 

“What?”

 

“You smell sad. Kind of all the time but especially right now.”

 

“I’m not the one who you should worry about feeling sad right now.” The pinched look Derek adopted told Stiles that was exactly the wrong thing to say, though he had known that even as he said it. Derek was just trying to distract himself from the crushing news he had just received. “How do you know how my emotions smell anyway? Don’t you have to know a person for a while?”

 

Derek pursed his lips, like he knew that Stiles was deflecting, but he answered anyway. “Your smell is...clearer, I guess. It's like I know you already.”

 

“Oh.” Stiles turned into his driveway and cut the engine. “I suppose that's probably the whole Spark connection or something.”

 

“You ignored my question.” Derek still hadn’t unbuckled his seatbelt, even though Stiles was already halfway out the door.

 

Swallowing thickly, Stiles tried to come up with an honest but vague answer. “Derek left Beacon Hills and I wasn't ready for that.”

 

“Did he betray the pack?” Young Derek was clearly anxious that the answer might make him disappointed with the person he had become.

 

“No, no. He was a good pack member. I just feel-”He knew exactly what he felt but he broke off anyway. Saying it made him feel pathetic, even though he understood why he felt Derek’s departure so harshly now.

 

“Like you weren't worth staying for.”

 

Why did every version of Derek have to know him so well? Stiles nodded.

 

Derek gave him a sad smile. “I'm torn between believing that I must have had a good reason and thinking I've become a complete moron.”

 

The blunt self-deprecation startled a laugh out of Stiles. It almost hurt his throat he hadn't done it in so long.

 

“I suppose we should go in and brave the Sheriff then.”

 

“No time like the present.” The accidental play on words with their current situation gave the teenagers cause for another chuckle.

 

When Stiles opened the front door, he was surprised to find the smell of dinner cooking wafting through the house. He hadn’t realized the whole dream wandering process had taken so long.

 

“Hey Dad! You in the kitchen?”

 

“Yep!” Came the call back.

 

Derek hung back behind him and out of view as he entered the kitchen. “How’re you doing, son?” Stiles cringed. His dad sounded as though he was walking on broken glass.

 

“Um, I’m good. I suppose.” He paused before continuing. “I, uh, know you’re cooking, but you might want to sit down.”

 

The Sheriff quirked an eyebrow but sat down at the kitchen table regardless.

 

“So as it turns out, I have some magical powers that I didn’t know about which have been giving  me the nightmares and I learned about them today and accidentally brought teenage Derek forward from the past.” The sentence fell out in a jumble and Stiles took a few exaggerated breaths as he waited for the outburst of disbelief to come as his father just stared at him, unblinking.

 

“That’s going to take a while to sink in.” Was all he said. “Is he, uh, here?”

 

Derek stepped out from behind the kitchen door, hands buried deeply in his pockets and shoulders hunched.

 

“How are you, Sheriff Stilinski?”

 

“Long time no see, Derek.” The Sheriff was taking this rather well. Stiles was going to have to check his blood pressure later. Derek grinned, relieved the Sheriff didn’t seem angry to see him.

 

“Not so long time no see for me, Sheriff. You pulled me over for speeding last week. Didn’t give me a ticket though. I appreciate that.”

 

The Sheriff chuckled. “I remember that. I couldn’t muster the courage to write a ticket for you with all that… Oh god. Derek that was the anniversary of the fire wasn’t it?”

 

“Dad-” Stiles tried to warn his dad to stop, but Derek’s hand was suddenly at his elbow and he shivered slightly at the contact.

 

“It’s okay, Stiles.” His voice was sad, but he didn’t seem angry. “Yeah. Laura kind of checked out that day, and she hasn’t really been the same since. She was doing okay for the first year, keeping distracted by working and other stuff, but the anniversary hit her really hard and I’ve kind of been on my own. And now I guess I really am. I can't believe she's gone too.” His voice drifted off.

 

“I don't know what to say, Derek. I'm sorry you had to learn this way. We’re all here for you for however long you're here.”

 

“The fact that I have people here is honestly more than I could have expected.”

 

“Who are you staying with?” Stiles knew his dad was trying to be welcoming, but he could see the concern on his face.

 

“Actually, Deaton volunteered to take him in. I just wanted to let you know what's up and lend him some clothes.”

 

Up in his room, Stiles started rifling through his drawers and closet, pulling things out he didn't wear too often.

 

“This was so much easier than last time.” He muttered to himself as he stared at the large pile of clothes on the bed, but of course Derek picked up on it.

 

“You've lent me clothes before?”

 

“Uh yeah, once. Messy situation. My clothes didn't fit you too well, though.”

 

“I didn't get fat did I?” Derek sounded horrified and Stiles laughed again, pleased to find the action getting a little easier.

 

“Hardly.” Images of Derek and his muscles flared up in his mind and he cleared his throat awkwardly when he noticed the curious look he was receiving from young Derek. “Muscle. Just all muscle. He was taller than me back then too.”

 

It suddenly occurred to Stiles how much taller than Derek he was this time. He must have grown more than he realized in the time since Kate had reverted Derek the year before, because now he solidly had three or so inches on the other teen.

 

Derek seemed pleased by that answer and started folding up shirts, flannels, and jeans in his size. Stiles had thrown a pair of pajamas in for good measure.

 

“We can stop at the store before I take you to meet Deaton so we can get you some socks and underwear.”

 

Without skipping a beat, Derek spoke with a completely flat face. “Oh, I don’t wear underwear.”

 

The heat flared in Stiles’s cheeks before he could help it and embarrassed panic covered his features when Derek started laughing.

 

“I’m kidding, dude!”

 

Stiles floundered for a few moments, still unsure of if he should be grateful or shocked that Derek was making jokes. He settled for pushing him back onto the bed, surprised to find that Derek let himself be pushed. Suddenly he was standing over Derek as he lay back on his bed and the tension fell thick in a way Stiles hadn’t felt in ages.

 

Turning away and clearing his throat, Stiles found a duffle and started packing up the clothes. “Why’d you let me do that?”

 

“What do you mean let you?”

 

“I mean you’re a werewolf. I can’t push you over.”

 

Derek pushed his chin back in disbelief. He hadn’t heard a lie, which meant Stiles thought it was true.

 

“You’re stronger than you think, Stiles.” He narrowed his eyes in thought. “What were you thinking about when you did that?”

 

“I don’t know. Probably some combination of ‘you’re an ass’ and wishing I could actually push you over.” Stiles mouth fell open as he cocked his head in thought. “That’s all it takes?”

 

Derek shook his head, baffled. “Got me. I’ve only heard stuff here and there about Sparks. I don’t have a clue how it works, but I have a feeling you’re going to need to learn how to control it soon, now that you’ve learned you have it. It can get messy.”

 

Stiles sighed heavily. “So Deaton said.”

 

They packed the remaining clothes into the bag and then headed back downstairs.

  
“I’ll be home in about an hour dad!” Stiles called.

 

“And you are telling me exactly what these new magic powers of yours are as soon as you step back in that door, you hear me?”

 

“Yes, dad.” Stiles called back as he shut the door, exaggerating the ‘a’ sound in exasperation. They were getting far too used to all of this supernatural business.

 

The drive to Target was easy. Stiles babbled in a way almost reminiscent of his younger self, only catching himself once in awhile on topics that caused painful memories to bloom and grind his words to a halt. Derek seemed to pick up on these moments, just as his older self would have done, but instead of sitting in silence and letting Stiles stew in his thoughts he would redirect the conversation. Stiles was grateful for it, and wondered where along the road of grief, loneliness, and guilt had Derek lost the graces of human interaction.

 

Derek seemed fascinated by the minute changes to the town that had occurred in the seven years since he had seen it. Or perhaps he was forcing himself to be interested. Stiles wasn’t sure.

 

They picked up a 10-pack of running socks before heading to the underwear section.

 

“Huh.” Fell out of Stiles’s mouth before he could stop it as Derek reached for a pack of boxers.

 

Derek turned to him, his arm still extended toward the package. “What?”

 

“Oh, uh, nothing. Just always pegged you as a boxer-brief kinda guy.” Stiles could feel the color rising in his face and he scrubbed at his cheeks aggressively in an attempt to hide it. He had just admitted to at least tangentially thinking about Derek in underwear and really how much more embarrassing could he make this situation for himself?

 

Derek looked about to say something cheeky about that, but “Huh,” was his only reply. He grabbed the pack of boxer-briefs instead.

 

Stiles was grateful the ride to the clinic wasn’t long from there. He knew he probably smelled like a confusing mess and he didn’t want Derek focusing on it longer than he had to.

 

Stiles noticed Derek fiddling with his seatbelt as they prepared to go into the clinic. “What is it?”

 

“I’m going to see you right? Like this isn’t it until you figure out how to send me back is it?”

 

Stiles couldn’t stand the resignation in his voice and he reached out to grip Derek’s forearm in reassurance.

 

“Of course. I wouldn’t leave you to Deaton’s company 24/7. Feel free to come over whenever I’m not at school.”

 

“You’re dad will be okay with that?” Stiles nodded and was rewarded with a smile that finally fully reached Derek’s eyes. “Okay, thanks.”

 

Before Stiles left he pulled Deaton out of the clinic, hoping Derek would understand and not try to eavesdrop.

 

“Is it okay if I tell present Derek what’s going on? I feel like he should know what I am and stuff.”

 

“I don't see why he shouldn't know, as long as he and his past self don't encounter or hear each other. If you contact him you have to make it clear he isn't to come back while this Derek is still here.”

 

Stiles released a derisive huff of laughter. “It's not like he wants to be here anyway.” Deaton observed him quizzically for a brief moment, but if he had objections to the statement he let them lie.

 

He explained the situation fully to his dad when he got home, and felt so bad that the man had one more wrench thrown into his life just as another was resolved that he didn't comment on the red meat he had cooked.

 

The sheriff seemed determined to not focus on the magic aspect of the whole situation, so he focused on Derek instead.

 

“So is Derek going to be spending a lot of time here?”

 

Stiles shrugged. “I'm guessing he will. He doesn't know anyone else.”

 

“He technically doesn't know you either.” The sheriff pointed out.

 

“I know he doesn't really know who I am, and I can't explain it, but it's like he knows me as a person.

 

“I don't know son. Is this healthy?”

 

Stiles felt knots twist in his stomach. He knew where this was leading, but decided to play dumb. “What do you mean?”

 

“I know Derek’s leaving hit you pretty hard.”

 

“How do you know that?” Stiles interrupted sharply.

 

“You stopped talking about him, Stiles. It was like he never existed. I don't want you trying to pretend like this Derek is a replacement for the Derek you know. That's just not fair to either of you.”

 

There was no good response to any of that. His dad was right of course. Replacing his Derek with a younger version was suppressing the problem, not healing it. Yet at the same time, maybe his mind had done this in an effort to make him heal. He didn't know and only time would reveal that answer. “I didn't do this on purpose, dad.”

 

“I know, son. I just want to make sure that whatever you do, it's because it feels like the right thing.”

 

“How am I supposed to know that?”

 

His father smiled knowingly. “You've got good instincts, kid, you just need to have faith in yourself.”

 

It took Stiles 20 minutes to compose a suitable text and convince himself to send it. The worst thing about it was that if he never received a reply he wouldn’t know if it was because Derek had changed his number or because he didn't want to talk with any of them. In the end it probably didn't matter, though, because those were basically the same thing.

 

_Stiles: Hey Derek. This is kind of out of the blue but I want to talk to you about something. If you're okay with that, could you give me a call when you're free._

 

He tried getting himself to calm down enough to do some homework, but he couldn't focus on it so he restlessly worked on writing down the accounts of his early days with Scott after he'd been bitten. It was something his dad had suggested he do a long time ago, to commemorate all he'd experienced. If it didn't help him come to terms with what had happened in his life, he could always change some things around and try to get it published as a fantasy novel. English had always been his best subject and he loved writing. Maybe publishing a novel would help him get into college. God knows he didn’t have time for real extra-curriculars anymore.

 

The writing did a surprisingly effective job at calming his nerves, and he jolted when his phone vibrated aggressively on the desk. Derek. His fingers trembled as he slid the accept bar.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Stiles.”

 

His breath caught at the sound of Derek's voice. The presence of young Derek had seemed to soothe him, but simply hearing Derek's voice, deep and smooth and calm, filled him with peace so profound he couldn't speak for a moment.

 

“Stiles?” Derek spoke again.

 

“You called.” Stiles still sounded breathless.

 

“Why wouldn't I call?”

 

“I just didn't know if you had changed your number.”

 

Derek didn't speak for a while and Stiles began to worry he'd said the wrong thing.

 

“I wouldn't do that without telling you, Stiles.”

 

“Oh that's good.” He said weakly.

 

“Why did you call, Stiles?” Derek was doing that thing he always did when Stiles couldn't seem to stay on track. Repeating his name over and over, reminding him that he was present and had something to do. Infusing his voice with that endless patience he seemed to possess.

 

“Uh. You know what a Spark is, right? Not the werewolf kind of spark. The human kind of Spark.”

 

He heard a small whooshing sound over the phone, as though Derek had released an involuntary hard breathe.

 

“Stiles you're not…” His voice drifted away.

 

“I'm your Spark, Derek. Apparently I have been for a long time.”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Stiles laughed dryly. “Okay is a highly relative concept. But um, I do need your help.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“I've been having these nightmares and Ms. Morrell was trying to help me resolve them and I accidentally used my Spark and brought your teenage self forward from the past.”

 

Silence. Complete and utter silence. All Stiles could hear was Derek's steady, if slightly accelerated, breathing over the receiver.

 

“Where did you pull him from?” He said finally.

 

“About a week after the first anniversary of the fire.”

 

“That was…not a good time.” Stiles marveled at how level Derek was being about this. A little over a year ago Derek would not have handled a reminder of the fire so well. “And I take it you had to tell him about Laura too?”

 

“Yeah. It was horrible. I mean in general he seems like he’s doing okay. He makes jokes and stuff.”

  
“He makes jokes?” Derek was suddenly very intense. “That doesn’t sound right. I wouldn’t have been cracking jokes.”

 

“Well maybe being forcibly time-travelled is giving him something else to focus on. I mean, when he’s here in the future he can see that he’s found people who care about him.” Stiles voice drifted into nothing as he felt where that sentence was going. When speaking about the past-Derek, it was easy to treat him as a separate, third entity, but he was really still just Derek and admitting to caring about him meant admitting to caring about the man to whom he was currently talking. He contemplated backtracking but really, what would be the the point of that?

 

Derek was apparently choosing to ignore it as well. “Yeah, that makes sense. It was a lonely time.”

 

“Is there anything I can do to help him?”

 

“Just be there for him. Give him something normal to do.”

 

“Does helping me learn how to use magic count as normal for you?”

 

Derek chuckled and the sound made his stomach swoop low. “Normal is a relative term for a kid born a werewolf. I’m sure just spending time with you will be helpful.”

 

“Can-can I ask you something?”

 

“Aren’t you already?”

 

Stiles gave a rye chuckle. “I suppose. Why was that year so much harder than the first?”

 

“Laura and I tried staying in Beacon Hills that first year. She turned down her admittance to NYU so that I could stay in high school there, and then she just worked a part time job to stay busy. We had life insurance money coming in from several relatives and Laura had just turned 18 when the fire happened so the insurance company had her investigated for fraud and murder. She got through it on anger alone, I think, and finally the charges got dropped a few days after the anniversary of the fire. I think once she didn’t have anyone to fight anymore, she just didn’t have anything left to live for. I was kind of on my own after that. I had trouble controlling my shift, so what little contact I had maintained with my human friends I cut off altogether. School was too easy for me, so I started cutting class, but then I got called in for truancy and almost got myself taken away from Laura entirely.”

 

“Is that when you moved to New York?”   
  


“Yeah. We both ended up at NYU, me a year behind her. We should have been close but we weren’t during those years. Then she left to deal with what was going on in Beacon Hills and it was too late to fix after that.” The regret in Derek’s voice was unbearable, and Stiles could understand the noxious guilt that came with losing family and pack.

 

“Oh.” Suddenly he was at a loss for words. Derek had told him what he needed to know, but the idea of hanging up was unfathomable. “I know you don’t need to be told, but you shouldn’t come to Beacon Hills while he’s still here.”

 

“That sounds like a good idea.”

 

The silence hung heavy over the line as if they knew the conversation was over, but weren’t accepting of that fact.

 

“I’m in Alaska right now.”

 

Stiles felt his heart rate pick up. Derek was freely offering information about his life. He wanted to keep talking just as much as Stiles did, if not more.

 

“Isn’t it cold there?”

 

“I have fur.” Stiles could just picture the shrug in Derek’s voice, and the image of Derek playing in the snow in wolf form thrilled a giggle out of him.

 

“Have any plans to compete in the Iditarod?”

 

“Funny.”

 

They talked until Stiles fell asleep and Derek hung up upon hearing the regular pattern of his calm breathing.

  
Stiles didn’t have any nightmares that night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!! Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already uploaded this but something seemed a little wrong, so this is a reupload with some minor changes. Thanks to thehyacinthgirl for betaing!

At school the next morning Stiles was bombarded by Lydia and Kira.

 

“You have magical powers?” Kira whispered urgently from his right.

 

“You time-traveled teenage Derek out of the past?” Came Lydia’s voice from his left.

 

Stiles let his head thump forward against his locker loudly and groaned. “How does everyone learn these things so quickly?”

 

Kira giggled nervously. “People talk.”

 

“Right. People talk as in Deaton literally tells Scott everything now and Scott can’t keep his mouth where it belongs.” It wasn’t a nice thing to say, especially to Kira, and he knew it. She let it slide, however, and he secretly loved her just a little bit for being the one pack member who seemed to understand that every personal problem within the pack didn’t have to be her problem.

 

“Not important.” Lydia butted in. “What’s all this about?”

 

“Are you seriously going to make me talk about my magical powers at school, Lydia?” Stiles whispered harshly back, but the withering stare he got in response was all the answer he needed. Lydia was back to being as scary as ever. “Fine. I have magical powers called a Spark that I get from Derek’s werewolf spark and I accidentally used it to bring teenage Derek forward from the past and now he’s staying with Deaton until I can figure out how to send him back.”

 

Lydia and Kira simply stared at him for a moment before Kira nodded definitively. “Good enough.”

 

The bell telling them to get to class rang then and they milled off in their separate directions.

 

Needless to say, Stiles’s focus was lacking that day. He got his math test back and was nebulously pleased to find that he had managed to get an ‘A’, just as Liam had promised he would, but the satisfaction only ran skin deep. His thoughts circled around imagining what kind of powers he possibly possessed and what direction his relationship with this young Derek was heading. Mostly, though, he replayed the phone conversation with Derek over and over, parsing apart the details of the wolf’s current life and marking every single one ‘IMPORTANT!’

 

Derek and Braeden had actually parted ways in May, not long after they had left together. For once in Derek’s life it had been a friendly and mutual parting, and he had spoken about her like the friendly acquaintance she now was. He had decided on Alaska for no other reason than wanting to explore his new shift and as it turned out, the Iditarod joke had only been half-off. Though he didn’t need a job, Derek worked for an ex-musher who had suffered a stroke and could no longer care for her dog team, but didn’t have the heart to sell them. The work was simple, Derek had said, but Stiles could tell it had had a therapeutic effect on him. Dogs were regularly used in therapy because they were so free and accepting with their love. Perhaps he hadn’t done it on purpose, but Derek seemed to have stumbled upon exactly what he needed to finish the healing process he had begun after taking Cora back to South America.

 

Possibly the most important thing about the conversation was that they hadn’t spoken about anything important at all. After they had gotten Stiles’s initial business out of the way, the conversation had been slow and easy, following the lazy path of whatever occurred to them to say. From early in the conversation Stiles ardently avoided speaking about the events of the Dread Doctors (which Braeden had told Derek about), Malia, or Scott and Derek caught on to his resistance without a hitch and didn’t push.

 

Eventually the day ended and Stiles tried rushing home but was cornered at his Jeep by Liam and Lydia who forced him to drive them to Deaton’s. Stiles would have complained, but Deaton’s probably meant Derek, so he had little reason to genuinely oppose.

 

Deaton’s apparently also meant the rest of the pack, including Malia and Scott at whom Stiles diligently avoided looking. As soon as he arrived, Derek gravitated right to Stiles’s side, shooting him a bashful smile as he did so, and Stiles chose to focus on him instead of the elephants in the room.

 

“How was your first night?” Stiles asked. “Does Deaton sleep in a coffin?” It was an absurd question, but Stiles had difficulty imagining Deaton living like a normal human and the laugh he was rewarded with was worth it.

 

“Hanging upside down actually.” Derek returned cheekily. “I’m okay, though. Really. He’s a little confusing, but he’s pretty nice and he has a dog. His house is all sealed up with mountain ash, so I should feel trapped but it actually calms me down a bit.”

 

“Hey, that’s great. You might as well be comfortable as long as you’re stuck here.”

 

During the short exchange, Stiles became acutely aware that his pack members were not-so-subtly watching them in confusion.  This was, after all, probably the first time they had seen him smile in some time, not to mention willingly talk to someone without the underlying anger that had crept into his manner some time ago. With Derek, he was a Stiles they hadn't seen in months.

 

Deaton, Ms. Morrell, and an unfamiliar woman stepped in then.

 

“Everyone.” Morrell greeted the room with a nod. Everyone more or less just stared at her and she continued. “This is Meng Fei. She's a Spark belonging to a pack in northern California and she'll be your teacher, Stiles.”

 

The middle-aged Chinese woman dipped her head minutely towards Stiles. “Call me Fei.” She wore her hair in a short pixie cut that highlighted an angular face and delicate features. Her eyes were black but Stiles could see a brightness behind them that intrigued him. Fei was a short woman but there was a strength in her presence that made it difficult to notice.

 

“Why don’t you fill everyone in on the situation, Fei?” Morrell said, moving the meeting along.

 

Stiles was grateful he wasn’t being expected to explain for once. Being a practiced and fully-functional Spark herself, Fei probably knew how to explain everything better anyway.

 

“Stiles and I are something called Sparks. It’s a terribly uncreative name, but the essence of it is that when a werewolf pack, or sometimes a single werewolf, hold a very strong bond with a human, they can occasionally transfer some of their werewolf spark to that human. No one is entirely sure why it happens, but it’s generally believed to serve a protective function. Humans are vulnerable, and it’s thought that if a werewolf becomes strongly invested in a human’s safety, they infuse that human with their spark.

 

“In Stiles’s case, Deaton believes that his Spark originated from Scott, but sometime early on he believes it shifted to originating from Derek. I don’t think that’s the case, however, because Spark’s don’t shift allegiances, they only share. If Stiles’s spark had originated from Scott, he would not be having problems with it in Derek’s absence.”

 

Stiles looked up at Fei in surprise. “What? But that would mean I got it from him sometime around when he became alpha. We could hardly have counted as close back then.”

 

Derek’s eyebrows lifted beside him. “I became an alpha?”

 

“Nevermind that.” Fei interjected. “You may not have had a positive relationship, but that doesn’t mean you weren't important to each other. What I understand of him from rumors I hear is that Derek is a deeply protective individual of anyone he considers important. You maybe didn’t know it, but that doesn’t mean you weren't emotionally invested in each other's safety.”

 

Stiles didn’t know what to say to that, but he suddenly felt as though he hadn’t paid enough notice to all the times Derek had protected and cared for him.

 

“Shouldn’t they have been aware this happened?” Lydia asked, clearly recognizing that Stiles was overwhelmed. “If this connection is so strong, why didn’t they know it existed?”

 

“I can’t say for sure. Every Spark is different, and I might not know until I get to know Stiles better.”

 

“And why are we here?” Scott asked.

 

“Stiles pulled me out of a time when I didn’t have very good control.” Derek spoke to the group for the first time. “While Stiles is learning how to use his magic, I’m going to need help keeping my shift under control on the full moon.”

 

“Alright well that's eight days from now. Plenty of time to figure that out.”

 

“We also want you paying close attention to the things Stiles does.” Fei added. “This will hopefully change soon as I teach him, but now that he has consciously used his powers to move Derek, his Spark is going to come out more readily, and likely without his control. I need an idea of the sorts of things he does without conscious intention.”

 

“That's it?” Kira asked.

 

Fei nodded. “You all may go now. I only need Stiles now.”

 

The pack drifted out but Derek seemed hesitant to leave.

 

“Can I stay?” He asked Fei hesitantly. She was pretty intimidating.

 

Stiles felt hopeful but she shook her head and he felt himself sag a little in disappointment. “Perhaps during future lessons, but I would like to see what Stiles can do when he's alone first.”

 

“Oh.” Derek looked uncharacteristically dejected by that before turning to Stiles. “Well hey, Deaton got me a phone so I could keep in touch with everyone, so will you just let me know when you're done?”

 

Exchanging phone numbers shouldn't have made him so giddy, considering he technically already had Derek's phone number, but in his defense, that had only been accomplished with a lot of pestering on his part in the name of coordinating efforts against Peter. Now though, Stiles had a pleasant inkling Derek had only pretended to be difficult to convince.

 

Derek still appeared resistant to leaving, moving more slowly than usual, and Stiles felt compelled to reassure him. “I’ll text when I’m done and you can meet me at my house. My window’s unlocked.” Derek looked at him funny but didn’t say anything and Stiles wasn’t about to admit it was something he continued to do even after losing hope Derek would ever come in through the window again.

 

“Alright Stiles.” Fei turned to him sharply as soon as Derek had left. “Deaton told me about the rather superhuman feats you have accomplished over the years, along with your ability to extend the mountain ash. When I look at those things, on top of you bringing Derek forward out of the past, and the fact that you did almost all of it unintentionally, I would hazard to say that you are a remarkably strong Spark. You just don’t know how to use it.”

 

“Yeah, why is that? Why was I completely unaware that I had this in me? I know you said you weren’t sure, but I don’t totally believe you.”

 

“I don’t completely know but I do have some preliminary theories. I believe that if your Spark had come from Scott, you would have known, because you were fully aware of your bond with him. What was your relationship with Derek like?”

 

Stiles chuckled. “To be honest I wasn’t aware we had any form of ‘relationship,’” he quoted the air as he spoke, “until we had some down time after we defeated a Kanima my sophomore year. Even then I thought we were mostly just sharing space and occasionally helping each other. Before that, it was mostly animosity and begrudged reciprocity.”

 

“Essentially you saw yourself as an annoying teenager who Derek tolerated because you were useful.”

 

It hurt hearing it described that way but Stiles had more or less come to terms with that part of their past and he shrugged. “I suppose. Eventually I guess we got pretty comfortable with each other, but our lives were always so chaotic that it was impossible to tell what it really was.”

 

“I think that is definitely part of the problem. Sparks usually form between humans and werewolves that share a strong, identifiable bond, and their power is derived from that bond. Your powers remained so thoroughly hidden because your bond with Derek is hidden.”

 

Stiles was becoming thoroughly overwhelmed by these revelations. The concept of him possessing that strong of a connection to Derek felt laughable, and yet he couldn't find it in himself to deny the truth of her words either. Against all logic, he and Derek had been compelled to protect and support one another since they’d met, but he refused to believe that equated to a bond. “There's nothing there though, that’s what I don’t get.”

 

“Don’t play dumb, Stiles. All I know of you is the little Deaton told me and what I’ve seen in this room and I can tell you and Derek share a strong connection, no matter how old he is. It’s simply shrouded behind formalities, insecurity, and situation.”

 

“Well fine, there’s a bond. That does jack when he’s not here. How am I supposed to control it without him?”

 

“It will be harder, I won’t lie. Sparks and their Sources aren’t really supposed to be separated indefinitely, but a Spark should still be able to harness their abilities when alone. You just need to believe that you can.”

 

Stiles scoffed. “Yeah well me and self-confidence aren’t exactly simpatico.” He shot back.

 

“Work with me, Stiles. I'm here to help you. I don't expect this to be an overnight success, but it's never going to work if you tell yourself it won't.” She paused and looked to him for confirmation. He sighed but nodded in agreement and Fei pulled a bowl from her bag into which she poured some water. “Let's start simple. You are going to boil the water without touching it.”

Stiles simply stared at her disbelieving and he could see the muscles in her jaw straining to clamp down in impatience. Fei was clearly not a natural-born teacher and he could tell they were eventually going to get along beautifully or she was going to bite his head off. In the end he figured it would probably come down to his willingness to participate.

 

“Boiling water,” she continued to clarify, “ just as it is the easiest skill for a chef, is the easiest skill for a Spark. You have already accomplished tasks much harder than this, so this isn't to practice your power. It's to practice your belief.”

 

“I just believe the water will boil?” Stiles had not expected this was what he would be learning to do.

 

“You believe you can make the water boil.”

 

He didn’t understand how such a fine distinction really mattered.

 

“Can you show me?”

 

Fei barely suppressed an eye roll at that, but forced herself to take a breath. “This isn't like Harry Potter, Stiles. I can't show you how to swish the wand properly. You have to find it in you and feel it, more like-”

 

“The Force?” Stiles was basically living a padawan life right now, and Fei was his Jedi master.

 

“It's an adequate enough analogy if it helps you understand the idea. The difference is that rather than using the energy around other things to manipulate them, you are using the energy within yourself and directing it to perform the desired task.”

 

Stiles did his best to internalize the comparison and then spent the next hour trying and failing to believe the water into evaporation, eventually collapsing backward onto the chair behind him, shivering and boneless.

 

Seemingly anticipating this, Fei was already holding a candy bar out for him and he greedily swallowed it down.

 

“Why the hell am I so tired if I didn’t actually manage to do anything?”

 

“You actually did quite a lot. Spark’s are more or less bound by the laws of physics, with a few exceptions where their Sources are concerned, as you have already discovered.”

 

“What do you mean ‘bound by physics’? How is magic bound by natural law?”

 

“Magic is just another form of energy, like heat and light. You can’t do anything with it that permanently defies physics. In the case of the water, you must exert your own energy to give the water enough energy to boil. Think of yourself like an oven trying to bake a cake. If you close the door of an oven, the heat it produces is directed inward and the cake is baked. If you open the oven door, however, the energy is lost to the environment and the cake may never bake. You are currently an open oven, bursting with a massive amount of completely undirected energy. Once you use it up, you have to wait until you recover it by taking in energy from food.”

 

“Uhuh.” The general concept made total sense to Stiles. He understood science. The whole process, however, was still generally overwhelming and his head had begun to throb. “So how do I close this oven door of mine?”

 

“I think that it will actually be helpful if we can have Derek at these practice sessions for that. Though he is not the Derek that originally formed the Spark bond with you, he should serve as a suitable anchor to help you begin learning how to control your abilities.”

 

An unspoken ‘but’ lurked in there somewhere, but Stiles didn’t have the heart to press. He knew exactly what it was and didn’t feel like being reminded again that this was only temporary.

 

Fei called it a night after that and Stiles texted Derek that he was on his way home. If he was surprised that Derek managed to run to his house faster than he drove, he didn't bother showing it. The sight of him waiting awkwardly in his desk chair caused old memories to surface of when the older Derek had finally grown accustomed to sitting in the chair instead of standing awkwardly (and creepily) in the corner. An ill-placed pang of jealousy flooded through him and he felt ridiculous when he realized that he was upset that this younger Derek was more comfortable with him than the current one.

 

“Hey!” Derek said as Stiles entered his room. He was flipping boredly through a Spanish textbook. “I can't believe some of the ways they teach you to say things. No one would ever have a conversation like this.”

 

“I forgot you know Spanish! Dude, you're totally helping me catch up for my exam.” Derek smiled and nodded, but something sad fell over him and Stiles worried he had done something horribly wrong. “Or not!” He amended quickly, waving his hands in front of his body.

 

“No it's okay. I'd like to help you. It's just that I used to help Cora when she was first learning. She didn't pick it up as easily so my parents asked me to give her extra help.”

 

“Oh. I get it.” Stiles wished desperately that he could tell Derek that Cora wasn't actually dead, but he wasn't sure he was supposed to share that. The less Derek knew about the future when he got sent back, the better.

 

“You need your desk?” Derek asked, clearly wanting a change of subject.

 

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m starving so I’m going to go heat up some left overs. Want anything?”

 

“Just something to drink, thanks. I had dinner already.”

 

They drifted down to the kitchen and Stiles popped some soup into the microwave before handing Derek a Sprite. It was the one sugary thing he had ever seen in Derek’s fridge at the loft so he’d grabbed some after dropping him off last night.

 

“You like this right?”

 

Derek smiled sheepishly and Stiles could swear he turned a little pink. “You know what I like to drink?”

 

“Oh, uh, yeah I guess I do.” Now it was his turn to blush and he turned to grab his food from the microwave before Derek could see, though he undoubtedly would be able to smell the embarrassment. He placed the food on the table but suddenly felt awkwardly close to Derek who seemed to have gravitated toward him without his notice. “You sure you don’t want anything to eat. I feel kinda weird eating when you’re not.”

 

“Don’t sweat it.” And there was Derek’s hand on his hip. It was a brief touch, so brief in fact, he wasn’t totally sure it had happened, but the fire under his skin made him sure it had and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. Naturally, his face turned a splotchy pink and he stumbled into his chair on wobbling legs.

 

Could Derek actually be flirting with him? And what if he was? Stiles couldn’t deny it affected him, but he also couldn’t decide why. It was possible that he did truly have some kind of attraction to the other boy, but he couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t simply projecting his longing for the adult and very unavailable Derek onto this one, right in front of his face. His dad had been right. Stiles couldn’t do this to himself or Derek without knowing it was for the right reason, but damn was it tempting.

 

“You okay?”

 

“What?” Stiles spoke too loudly, surprised out of his thoughts by Derek’s voice.

 

“I asked if you were okay. You kind of spaced.”

 

“Uh… practice totally wiped me out.” It technically wasn’t a lie, but he definitely couldn’t afford to tell Derek the whole truth either. Their relationship was going to be complicated enough as it was without Stiles’s conflicted interests getting involved.

 

“Oh yeah! How was practice?”

 

The memory of his pathetic afternoon with Fei made Stiles sag defeatedly in his seat. “I’m shit at this magic stuff, apparently. You’re supposed to start coming with me tomorrow, if that’s okay with you.”

 

Derek’s face illuminated at the invitation, and Stiles’s heart jumped seeing how purely happy the thought of just being with him seemed to make the werewolf. He was definitely in trouble.

 

“I’d like that. I don’t get what I’m supposed to really do for you, but I guess Fei must have a plan.”

 

The rest of the evening passed with Stiles studying his Spanish and Derek reading through his comics while complaining about the storylines various heroes had taken. It was peaceful and quiet and comfortable.

 

About an hour passed like this when Stiles found himself confounded by a particularly complicated grammar pattern. Though he knew Derek had agreed to help him, Stiles felt awkward broaching an area Derek had once cherished with Cora and he resisted the urge to ask. He had been struggling with the same question for almost twenty minutes when Derek abruptly groaned loudly from his bed.

 

“What are you stuck on?”

 

The pencil slipped from Stiles’s fingers in surprise even as he tried to look innocent. “I didn't say anything.”

 

“No, but frustration smells terrible. Especially yours.”

 

Stiles half-heartedly snarled. “Scott never tells me I smell bad.” He mumbled.

 

“Born wolves have better senses of smell. Besides, I already told you. Everything about you smells stronger to me.”

 

“Yeah, okay fine. Now help me with this grammar.”

 

Having won this round, Derek smiled smugly and leaned over behind Stiles to look at his book. If Stiles barely remembered the lesson beyond Derek’s perfect accent in his ear and the encouraging shoulder squeezes that made him stutter, he would just find a way to explain it away later. He definitely didn't pretend to be more confused than he actually was to keep Derek there longer than he needed to be.

 

Eventually Stiles nodded off over his book only for Derek to gently shake him awake some time later.

 

“Hey, you should get to bed Stiles.”

 

“Unghh.” Stiles moaned into his book. “Don’t make me get up.” Directly ignoring his request, Derek slid two strong arms under his shoulders and pulled him to his feet.

 

“Up.” Derek’s breath, startlingly close to his ear, woke Stiles with a start and he jumped out of Derek’s grasp awkwardly, only to trip on his desk leg and land with a flop on the bed. Derek chuckled a warm, round sound before stepping up onto the windowsill. “I’ll see you tomorrow Stiles.”

 

Stiles didn’t bother changing out of his sweats, instead only taking the energy to shuffle under his blankets before falling into a heavy sleep. Who knew trying to boil water could be so hard?

 

The next day crawled, but Stiles was pleased to find that Derek’s Spanish lesson had managed to stick after all, and his test went smoothly. Lunch finally rolled around and Lydia started steering him out toward the table where they always used to sit.

 

“Lydia I don’t want to-”

 

“You’re eating and being social, Stilinski. You can’t avoid us forever.”

 

“Scott and M-”

 

“Yes they will be there Stiles, but they are still your friends and they're worried about you.”

 

“This is ridiculous. I'm doing better, Lydia.”

 

“No, you're doing better when you're with Derek. The rest of the time, you're just as withdrawn as ever.” She had that judgmental tone she got when she knew he was being purposely dense. “Case in point, the fact that you're still trying to get out of this.”

 

It was pointless to argue and he knew it, so Stiles trudged along a few steps behind her. Lydia kept a vice grip on his wrist the entire time with the confidence of knowing that while Stiles could get out of it, he wouldn't try. When he saw Malia and Scott sitting side by side, his steps slowed, but Lydia only pulled harder until she was sitting down beside Scott with Stiles beside her. Liam, Mason, Kira, and Hayden sat across the way, and Stiles was confident Lydia had arranged the seating so he wouldn't have to look at Malia and Scott.

 

Stiles didn't participate in the conversation, but gave a scout’s effort at paying attention. It was stilted and cheerless, and Stiles got the feeling everyone was struggling more than he'd given them credit for. It made sense when he gave it a thought and he'd been self-centered to think he was the only one suffering the aftermath of the Doctors.

 

Without preamble, Stiles interrupted. “Are you guys all okay?”

 

Everyone stared at him, taken aback by the abrupt question. Stiles didn't know if they were surprised he was talking or surprised that he cared and what that implied about his character didn't make him feel all that great about himself.

 

“What do you mean?” Kira asked hesitantly.

 

“I mean, are you all okay?”

 

“We're dealing.” Scott said shortly. “In our own ways.”

 

“So you’re having lots of sex, then?” The friendly sarcasm had fallen out so easily Stiles’s mouth hung open in shock after he asked the question. Silence descended on the table for a heated second before Scott broke into a shy fit of giggles and the rest of the table audibly released their pent up breaths, the tension tentatively broken.

 

No one answered Stiles’s question more thoroughly, but he got what he needed. They were all broken and all trying to fix themselves and none of them truly knew how the pack fit together anymore but they still only had each other and someday they would figure out how to make it work again.

 

When class got out for the day, Stiles rushed to pack his things so as to get to the clinic as quickly as possible. The hallways seemed extra packed today though, and he felt aggravated and impatient by the time he finally broke free into the parking lot. All the irritation melted away at the sight of Derek leaning against his Jeep, rapidly replaced by heat swelling in his chest.

 

“Hey!” Stiles spoke softly, when he was still much too far away for anyone but Derek to hear. Derek lifted his hand to return the greeting. “What’s with the hood?” He asked as he got close enough that he'd be able to hear the response.

 

Derek shrugged. “The students won't recognize me, but I'm betting there are still quite a few teachers who would think I was a ghost back to haunt them for all the times they stuck me in detention.”

 

“So you're a detention kid, huh?” Stiles asked as he jumped into the front seat. “Never would've called that one.”

 

“Future me sounds like a stick in the mud.” Derek bemoaned.

 

“Future you is just trying to make a new life.” The heat in his voice seemed to stun both of them into silence for a few moments.

 

“Why don't you tell him you want him back?” Derek's voice was small, as though he was afraid Stiles would snap again, and it made him feel guilty.

 

“Because he deserves to get away.”

 

“What if he's only staying away because he thinks that's what you want?”

 

Stiles’s heart was thundering painfully in his ribs and tears he wasn't going to let fall pressed behind his eyes. The effort to stifle them was a lost cause because Derek could tell exactly what he was feeling, but he stubbornly refused to let it show. Smiling weakly, he simply croaked, “That’s ridiculous.”

 

Derek reached over and squeezed his thigh sympathetically. “It kind of sounds like he would do anything he thought was best for you.”

 

“Well leaving was not fucking it.” His voice was coarse with suppressed tears and anger and Derek knew Stiles wasn't to be reasoned with at the moment, so he fell quiet.

 

The distance between them as they entered the clinic was too close to be indifferent but too far to be comfortable and the strain between them was clear to Fei when she greeted them.

 

“Are you feeling up to this today, Stiles?”

 

“Of course.” It was a lie and Derek lifted a skeptical eyebrow. Fei kept her comments to herself.

 

“How does this work?” Derek asked. “Do I have to do anything?”

 

“I want you to tell Stiles what you felt when you first saw him in Marin’s office.”

 

The hesitation in Derek’s expression was obvious, and Stiles felt his heart sink. “That bad, huh?”

 

“It’s not bad, I assure you.” Fei spoke more gently than usual, as though she was trying to coax Derek into speaking.

 

“It’s embarrassing though.” Derek was quickly turning pink and Stiles felt his curiosity rise.

 

“Not embarrassing at all. It’s how it is for every Source, Derek.”

 

“You’re sure?” Fei nodded and Derek took a small, shuddery breath before speaking again. “There aren’t good words for it, Stiles, but the second I saw you in Ms. Morrell’s office it was like I knew you were mine.”

 

Heat crept up his cheeks even as he shot back sarcastically, “Well that’s rather possessive.”

 

Derek shoved his shoulder gently and rolled his eyes. “Not like that. It doesn’t feel like I own you or anything. It’s more like you’re part of me.”

 

Stiles took a moment to let that sink in before speaking towards Fei. “Is that how the adult Derek feels?”

 

She cocked her head and made a face as if to say ‘who knows?’ before actually replying. “Like I told you yesterday. You’re bond with the current version of Derek is hidden, basically by bad timing as far as I can tell. If he felt it, he wasn’t aware of what it was.”

 

“You should ask him.” Derek nudged him in the arm gently as he said it and for a moment Stiles’s whole world was Derek’s soft skin brushing against his, before he brought himself back to the moment and momentarily ignored the suggestion.

 

“What’s your bond, Fei? What was it like for them?”

 

The smile that fell over her features was suddenly so fond Stiles felt like crying at how obviously meaningful the relationship was for her.

 

“My twin brother and I have always been quite close, and we lived together for a few years after college. He was bitten in the city one night and the changes were pretty apparent from the beginning. When he tried handling the first full moon on his own in the apartment, he got angry at me when I refused to leave him alone and shifted for the first time right in front of me. He had me cornered in my room, but I didn’t have any way to protect myself so I was just begging him not to hurt me. When he came at me I did the only thing I could and I hit him. It obviously didn’t hurt him, but he just sort of froze and stared at me until he suddenly shifted back.”

 

“You controlled his shift?”

 

“Not really. We believe the bond formed right when I punched him, because I was trying to defend myself from the one person who should never hurt me. His human desire to protect me overpowered the wolf’s bloodlust in that one moment and the Spark transferred. Once part of him was inside me, it, in that moment, protected me from him.”

 

Stiles sank down into the chair behind him and rested his elbows on his knees as he stared at the ground and contemplated what that meant about finding his Spark within him.

 

“So basically you’re saying that in order to harness my Spark, I have to accept that the bond actually exists?”

 

“Without the actual Source here to confirm it, that will have to serve as your anchor. In the meantime, young Derek here will serve as a sort of proxy for your anchor. If you can’t fully believe it on your own yet, his presence will provide you with some physical proof of the bond.”

 

“Okay. I’ll try.”

 

Stiles stood before the bowl of water and focused, not on the water, but on Derek. The push and pull of his light breaths, so close Stiles could feel them in his hair. The thought that those same lungs, several years older, were breathing slightly colder air somewhere else but at the exact same moment. The fact that those lungs had at one time breathed something profoundly important into his being that he simply had to find.

 

It didn’t hurt so much when he found it this time, though it was still trapped in his throat, straining to escape. He asked it to find synchrony with the breath from which it came, and he felt it glide down until it wrapped around his lungs and pulsed in time with the breath making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. When the rhythm was set, he directed the heat at the bowl in front of him, willing his energy to excite the water.

 

Steam began rising from the bowl, pulsing with greater heat at each breath he expelled until the water bubbled with ferocious intensity and nothing was left but the small glass bowl.

  
A satisfied smile crept up Fei’s lips and Stiles smiled happily even as he felt the tremors of exhaustion come over him abruptly. Derek’s arm wound around his waist, as if knowing he needed support. One of his large hands squeezed his waist in a manner so intimate Stiles didn’t know what to think of it, but he suddenly didn’t have the energy to try. He let his muscles give slightly and his body sagged into Derek’s warm grip.The contact wrapped around Stiles in a way that transcended its physical qualities, as though his Spark and Derek's were reaching for one another and intertwining restlessly, like friends buzzing with excitement after an eternity apart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [thehyacinthgirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thehyacinthgirl) for betaing!
> 
> The 8 chapter total is an estimation to keep me going, but it should be right.

Derek headed back to Deaton’s for a while after making sure Stiles got home alright and as soon as he got to his room, Stiles flopped heavily onto his bed. He lay there motionlessly until his father came home and popped his head in the bedroom door.

 

“You alright there son?”

 

“Don’t know.” Stiles said, his voice partially muffled in his pillow.

 

“You want some dinner?”

 

“Can I eat it up here? Not sure I can get up.”

 

“Sure, Stiles. Be up in a bit.”

 

Stiles lay there a while longer, fidgeting with his phone restlessly. ‘You should ask him,’ played over and over in his mind as he considered the successful lesson with Fei. It continued to eat at him until he realized his fidgeting fingers had typed Derek's long-since memorized number into his phone and were dancing over the call button. Taking a deep breath, he pressed it.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Derek, hi.” They had just spoken yesterday, but he still felt overwhelmed hearing Derek's voice.

 

“You're lucky I have a long distance plan you know?”

 

“I knew you did. Wouldn't hike up your phone bill if I didn't.”

 

“That's very generous of you.” Stiles could picture the sarcastic, thin-lipped face Derek would have made as he said it. “What do you want to know today?”

 

And here it was. The moment Stiles had to decide if he was going to plunge in or run.

 

“Did you know?” He couldn't get more words out and simply hoped Derek would understand his meaning.

 

“I hoped you were.” Derek always knew what he meant but that wasn’t the answer he expected.

 

“So you thought I might be?” Stiles’s chest felt tight, and he couldn't breathe right. Why would Derek keep that to himself?

 

“Stiles, are you okay? Breathe, Stiles.” He took one shallow, shuddering breath. “Another.” He took another.

 

“Answer me.” Stiles managed to choke out urgently after he'd relieved some of the most painful tightness.

 

“I didn’t know, but somewhere along the way you became my anchor, and I thought that was it.”

 

“I-I’m your anchor?” He stammered out, completely stunned by the confession. “I thought anger was your anchor.”

 

“It was for a long time, and I probably forced it to be longer than it truly was.” Derek paused before adding begrudgingly, “Which is probably why I was so weak back then.”

 

“You were never weak.”

 

“Don’t be so nice, Stiles. It doesn’t suit you.”

 

The jab should have offended him, but it didn’t. Though he liked to believe his friends thought he was nice, he knew he wasn’t, and more importantly, he was fully aware that Derek knew. It was part of why they had always worked well together. They simultaneously cared too much and didn’t know how to properly show it.

 

“When did you realize?”

 

“When Kate kidnapped me.”

 

Stiles breath caught as he realized how long ago that had been. “You’ve known I’m your anchor for a year, and you never told me.” Derek didn’t answer for so long that Stiles was again unsure if he had hung up. “Derek?”

 

“I thought it would make you uncomfortable.” Derek growled back.

 

“What?” Somehow that was the most absurd thing Stiles had ever heard. “Why would that make me uncomfortable?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about this Stiles.”

 

Derek had said a lot of profound and important things in the time Stiles had known him, but that single sentence would cling to him relentlessly as the moment he knew Derek had healed, even if he didn’t know it himself yet. In that small statement, as supposed to hiding behind layers of false-confidence, Derek had owned up to his vulnerability and concurrently realized it was within his rights to say what he actually wanted. As much as Stiles wanted to pry and complain, as he would have in the past, he knew deep in his core that he couldn’t. To do so would betray the confidence Derek had placed in him and potentially sabotage it forever.

 

“Okay.” They sat in silence again, and it should have felt awkward, waiting and listening to each other breathe, but it was peaceful and relaxing and Stiles could feel his Spark syncing with Derek’s rhythm over the phone. It suddenly felt important that Derek know how the pack was doing. “Lydia got me to sit with the pack again today.”

 

“How are they?” Derek sounded eager to know, but maybe he was just eager to hear Stiles willing to talk about them.

 

“They’re struggling. It’s hard to tell who’s taking it hardest. Lydia went through a lot in Eichen, but she says she says she doesn’t remember much. I don’t know how much I believe that.”

 

“How’s Malia?”

 

“We don’t talk. I have trouble seeing her. She’s too accepting of what I did and I don’t think she understands how much what I did kills me.”

 

“You know why she’s like that.”

 

“I know. And it’s fine that she’s like that. It’s just not fine for me.”

 

“How are your nightmares?”

 

“Oh, I had another last night, but it was only the normal kind, so better I guess.”

 

“And how's, uh, me?” How were they going to talk about him?

 

“Shall we call him Miguel?”

 

Derek chuckled. “Why break an old habit now?”

 

“He's okay.” Stiles wasn't going to mention the flirting. That would be far too awkward and would lead to way more questions than he wanted to answer. “He came with me to my Spark lesson today as my proxy anchor.”

 

“Did it work?”

 

“Surprisingly yeah. I managed to boil a bowl of water with my mind.”

 

“Congratulations.” Derek replied. Stiles could tell he was trying to sound unimpressed.

 

“Is it weird that this doesn't seem weird? I mean I just found out two days ago that I have magical powers and it just feels completely natural to talk about like it’s nothing.”

 

“It makes sense, I guess. Like when Lydia found out she had powers. Sometimes it just feels right.”

 

The sheriff stepped in then and placed a plate of dinner on the bedside table.

 

“You taking care of yourself Derek?” He spoke into the air, long since accustomed to the wolves’ abilities to hear things they shouldn't.

 

“He's currently evading Canadian law enforcement by hiding out as a wolf in Alaska.” Stiles piped up before Derek could respond.

 

“Could you try just once to not make your dad hate me?” Derek chided so fondly Stiles’s heart stuttered.

 

“Good to hear you're doing well.” The sheriff returned casually as he left the room, a bemused smile on his face.

 

“Don’t worry. He knows you’re an upstanding citizen.” Stiles’s tone was only slightly teasing and equally fond.

 

“I can feel it now, you know?” Derek spoke tentatively, after a short pause.

 

The abrupt transition dampened Stiles’s mood and his heart leapt uncontrollably. “What’s it like?”

 

“Like I should be there.” Derek’s voice came out halting and quiet, like he regretted saying it.

 

“You should.” Stiles whispered. His head felt hot, like pressure was building in his brain and he could only relieve it by crying or screaming. He did neither.

 

“Stiles, you know I can’t yet.”

 

He hung up without another word and sat staring numbly at his phone for several minutes. ‘You know I can’t yet’. No, he certainly did not know that. Why would he know that? Derek had given him no reason for the departure in the first place, let alone his continued absence. ‘Yet’ echoed in his mind and he stored that detail away as MOST IMPORTANT.

 

Derek knocked at the window fifteen minutes later and Stiles grunted as indication he should come in, still too lazy to stand.

 

“You know you don’t have to come through the window when I’m home right?”

 

“Yeah but I had a feeling you’d still be a limp noodle so this seemed easier for us both.” Stiles chuckled weakly. “Did that really wipe you out so badly?”

 

“I guess so. Dad just brought me dinner like half an hour ago but I’m already starving again.”

 

“Why don’t I go make you something?” Stiles sat up quickly, a protest on his lips, but his head began spinning and he slumped forward. Derek put one hand on his back and one on his chest and supported him back into a lying position. “Uhuh, yeah. I’m making you something. Take a nap or something while I’m downstairs.”

 

Stiles didn’t intend to actually fall asleep but once the idea had been placed in his head, he was out cold. Derek was nudging him awake half an hour later with one hand, a particularly laden tray of food in the other.

 

“Help me up.” Stiles grumbled, unhappy at being woken but enticed by the smells of whatever Derek had cooked. Chuckling warmly, Derek slipped his arm under Stiles’s back, digging fingers into his ribs lightly to gain leverage as he pulled him into sitting. Shivering embarrassingly at the combination of touch and Derek’s general closeness, Stiles attempted to distract from his reaction by grumbling about waking up.

 

“Don’t whine to me.” Derek countered smugly. “Your stomach’s growling so much, you definitely wouldn’t have slept another hour before waking up starving.”

 

“Fine, fine. Give me food.”

 

Derek placed the bed tray over Stiles’s lap. On it was a large bowl of ramen with an egg cooked in, three sausage links, buttered toast, glass of milk, and a sliced apple with peanut butter. He dug in on the finger food first, his hands and arms still feeling too weak and uncoordinated to handle utensils. Once he’d chased down the peanut butter and apples with his milk, he tackled the toast and sausage before finally slurping down the ramen, which had cooled enough so as to not burn his tongue. He didn’t speak as he ate and Derek simply watched him work on the food in a combination of awe and disgust.

 

Once he had finally finished, Stiles sat and stared at the empty plates and bowls in satisfaction.

 

“I’m gonna need to carbo-load every time I have a lesson. It literally makes me feel like I’ve run a super marathon.” Derek cocked an eyebrow. “Not that I know what that feels like.”

 

“You feel better now?” Stiles nodded. “Maybe we shouldn’t do these lessons everyday. Kind of seems like the effects are building up. You probably need a recovery day, like humans do with muscle training.”

 

“That makes sense. I’ll talk to Fei about it. I probably just still need work on shutting my oven door.” Derek furrowed his eyebrows in a humorously quizzical expression. “Don’t ask.”

 

“So you got much homework tonight?” Derek seemed bizarrely shy asking and it was a ridiculously cute expression on him.

 

“Not much. Finished most of it in study hall and I just have a little reading left.”

 

“Well get going then.”

 

“What’s the rush?”

 

“The rush is that The Avengers and The Hulk got turned into major blockbusters in the time since you pulled me up and we’re going to watch them all.”

 

Stiles cocked an eyebrow. “You really like The Hulk, huh?”

 

Derek shrugged. “He speaks to me. Anger issues ya know?”

 

Stiles snorted indelicately at the comparison. “You’re hardly the Hulk, but I get it. We’re definitely not getting through both of those tonight, but I’ll finish reading then pull up Hulk.”

 

Derek perused one of Stiles’s criminology books while Stiles finished his assigned reading from ‘The Awakening’ and read a little extra to lessen his workload later. He had a sneaking suspicion Derek wasn’t going to leave him much time to himself, and while he was more than okay with that, he couldn’t let his grades drop because of it. Eventually he finished the reading, wrote down the necessary plot points and pulled his computer open on his lap.

 

“Alright, come on over.”

 

Derek practically slid into bed beside him before pulling a pillow to cushion his back against Stiles’s headboard. Their sides were firmly pressed together and Stiles felt his nerves singing at the warm contact. His fingers shook almost imperceptibly as he hit the play button on his keyboard and he hoped Derek wouldn't detect the low-level anxiety the proximity was causing him. Apparently this Derek was just as perceptive as his future self though, because he reached over for his Sprite and in doing so shifted so as to create a minute distance between them. Stiles couldn't decide if he was grateful for or upset by the loss.

 

The pair settled easily into the movie until Stiles realized he was missing something incredibly important.

 

“I forgot popcorn!” Leaping out of the bed he staggered clumsily toward the hall. “You don’t have to stop it. Do you like butter? Either way I’m putting on butter.”

 

Derek stared after him, mildly confused and completely endeared. “I like butter.” He said after a beat, but Stiles was already too far down the hall to hear him.

 

Typically, Stiles would have just pulled out a bag of Orville and gone the microwave route, but he felt ambitious and pulled out the big pot. He melted the butter just as the kernels were finishing their fluffy ascent and mixed it in expertly before adding the finishing salty touch. Derek was totally engrossed in the film when Stiles scooted back into bed, bravely reestablishing the closeness that Derek had initiated. They munched absently at the perfectly buttered popcorn until the bowl was empty and their mouths were dry with salt and not a few minutes later Derek passed out on his shoulder.

 

Stiles couldn’t quite believe that the wolf was falling asleep right at the climax of the film so he shook him awake gently.

 

“Dude, wake up. You’re missing the best part.”

 

Derek shook his head vigorously nearly clocking Stiles in the jaw as he stirred.

 

“Huh?”

 

“You passed out. Like a total rock.”

 

Derek appeared guilty at hearing that, and Stiles once again hated that he seemed incapable of saying the right thing to him. He couldn’t seem to go more than a few hours without saying something that appeared to remind Derek that his life was still an utter disaster.

 

“Just tired, that’s all.” He tried to look convincing, but Stiles didn’t believe him.

 

“Tell me the truth, Derek. It’s fine.”

 

Derek bit his lip and Stiles would have thought it incredibly sweet if he couldn’t see the raging guilt behind the gesture. Whatever the issue was, it was tearing at Derek’s core.

 

“I told you everything at Deaton’s was okay, but it isn’t really.”

 

Irrational anger erupted in Stiles at the thought of Deaton harming Derek on one of his mysterious whims and it filled him up until he didn’t have room for anything else. “Did he do something to you? If he hurt you I’m going to kill him!”

 

“Stiles! Calm down.” Derek’s eyes were wide at Stiles’s volatility, but he reached out and gripped his head between his hands, thumbs dipped into the hollows under his cheekbones and fingers pressed soothingly into the muscles behind Stiles’s ears. “I’m okay. Deaton hasn’t done anything.”

 

Derek’s composure calmed Stiles almost immediately and he felt the unnatural rage recede beneath his skin. “He hasn’t done anything?”

 

“Nothing.” Derek’s voice was gentle, and he gave Stiles’s neck a mild squeeze before letting his hands fall away. Stiles was still so distracted he only faintly registered one hand fallen to rest on his thigh.

 

“If he isn’t doing anything, what’s the matter?”

 

“It’s the mountain ash. I told you it didn’t bother me, but that wasn’t true. I can’t sleep because it’s like every sound around the house is amplified tenfold and all I can think is that I wouldn’t be able to get out.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

 

The teen tilted his head down and to the side, averting his tentative gaze. “I didn’t want to bother people. You all shouldn’t have to deal with me anyway.”

 

And there it was, as obvious as Derek would probably ever make it before shutting his emotions in completely. The guilt-ridden teen had already begun morphing into the self-loathing man Stiles had met two years before and his heart pounded painfully at the defeat in Derek’s eyes.

 

“No. No! You ask us for anything you need. This is my fault, so if anyone’s bothering anyone, it’s me.”

 

Derek looked absolutely shocked at Stiles’s vehemence, but his features softened into the hint of a smile at the sincerity he found in the other boy’s face. “I doubt you bother anyone. Look at how they all came to the meeting to see how they could help.”

 

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t tired of me causing trouble.”

 

“Well you're not a bother to me at least.”

 

Stiles nudged Derek in the ribs with his elbow. “You're supposed to say that.”

 

Derek leaned back into him until Stiles fell over onto his pillow. “Just because you're my Spark doesn't mean I'm obligated to be nice to you.” He chided in return.

 

Stiles gripped Derek's arm and righted himself, pleased they had managed to push through the turbulent moments before.

 

“You can sleep here.” Stiles proposed. “Deaton can feed you and deal with the financial part but you can sleep here and feel safe.”

 

Hope and relief swelled in Derek's eyes at the offer.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah. You can stay in my bed and we have a blow up mattress somewhere that I can use.”

 

“Oh, okay.” Stiles could admit that he was a little pleased at the disappointed look on Derek's face when he proposed sleeping separately.

 

Stiles went off to find the mattress and by the time he'd succeeded in extracting it from the dusty depths of the basement, Derek was once again fast asleep. He'd created a blanket burrito for himself and Stiles was grateful he'd thought to grab some spare blankets from the hall closet. Once he'd gotten the mattress inflated and ready, Stiles slid it onto the floor beside his bed and was out cold soon after.

 

A few hours later Derek awoke to Stiles whimpering and thrashing about loudly on the plastic mattress.

 

“Stay away from her! Get away!” Stiles fell quiet, save for the sounds of his movement. “No. Not again.”

 

Derek unwrapped himself from his sheets before waking Stiles in a rush. They sat together, Derek's arm looped around Stiles’s shoulders, until he got his breath back.

 

“I thought the nightmares were done.” It came out like a statement, but Stiles knew it was a question.

 

“The Spark nightmares are gone. The regular ones never are. Just endless loops of the bad things I’ve done.”

 

“They don't go away. Dreams like that.”

 

The adult Derek never talked about his nightmares, but Stiles knew he had them. There had been enough late research nights where Derek would fall asleep over a book only to jolt awake an hour later with a pained growl.

 

“Do you want to talk about them?”

 

Derek shrugged before falling back onto the mattress. His arm was still wrapped tight around Stiles’s shoulder so he was pulled along with the wolf. Stiles lay on Derek's arm and listened as he talked about the fire. It was the first time Stiles had ever heard about the events straight from Derek and he did his best to stay awake until the other boy’s words drifted off with sleep.

 

The alarm blaring loudly at 6:30 the next morning woke Stiles with a jerk and he found himself on his back nestled underneath Derek’s arm. Beside him, Derek seemed entirely unfazed by the loud alarm, snoring softly with his head turned away from Stiles. Waking up beside him felt oddly right and naturally as a result, Stiles shot out of bed like lightning. He left Derek in bed and padded down to the kitchen where he started a pot of coffee brewing.

 

Derek joined him a few minutes later followed by his father up from putting the laundry into the wash.

 

“Deaton know you’re here, son?” The sheriff asked.

 

“Yeah, I texted him before I fell asleep. He’s okay with it.”

 

“Well I can’t feed a third mouth too often, but you’re welcome to stay for breakfast.”

 

“Thank you. I can help make it.”

 

“Perfect. You can help Stiles with that while I go get ready for work.”

 

And so the pair set about scrambling eggs, buttering toast and slicing grapefruit. Derek reached across the stove to grab some cheese to add to the eggs, letting his arm brush against Stiles as he did so. Without realizing, Stiles returned the touch by nudging a socked foot fleetingly against Derek’s. That also was unfortunately the exact moment the sheriff walked back in and cleared his throat pointedly. It only took Stiles a millisecond to shuffle about a foot away from Derek and almost spill the plate of toast he’d just loaded.

 

“So what do you do with yourself while this kid is in school?” The sheriff asked Derek as he jabbed an indicating thumb at Stiles.

 

“Oh, um, not much. I hang out at Deaton’s clinic and help him feed the animals and sweep and stuff. Basic things.”

 

“Dude, does he let you play with the dogs? Scott’s always bragging about that and I hate him for it.”

 

Derek shot him a cocky smirk. “Practically all day.”

 

Stiles kicked out at Derek’s feet in retribution and Derek pretended to look wounded. The sheriff just watched them.

 

They chatted about random things for a few more minutes before Derek looked at the clock and stood. “I’ve got to get over to Deaton’s before he heads to the clinic. Is it okay if I stay the night again, Mr. Stilinski?”

 

“Sure, Derek. Just check it with Deaton before you come over.”

 

Derek put his plate and glass in the dishwasher before giving Stiles’s shoulder a quick squeeze as he headed toward the front door. Both the sheriff and Stiles watched him go before the sheriff turned back around and leveled his son with an expectant gaze.

 

“You want to tell me why there was a Derek with you in bed last night?”

 

Stiles tugged at his bed-messy hair awkwardly and scuffed his toes against his chair legs.

 

“We, uh, just kind of fell asleep. Nothing happened, I promise.”

 

“Uhuh. You know I have eyes right? And could see how you two were over breakfast? I don’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, but you two act awful comfortable with each other.”

 

“Aw come on, dad. It’s nothing.”

 

“It certainly doesn’t look like nothing, especially on Derek’s end. If you’re not sure what you’re doing, maybe you should back off kiddo.”

 

Stiles sighed, but didn’t respond. He needed to talk to Lydia.

 

After lunch that day he pulled her aside before they headed back to class.

 

“What is it Stiles?”

 

“I am in deep with Derek right now, Lyds.”

Lydia cringed and backed away slightly. “Ew, Stilinski. TMI.”

 

“Ugh, not like that! Well, I think Derek wants it like that. I’m not totally sure.”

 

Lydia placed two firm hands on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not going to tell you how to live your life, but Derek deserves you to be honest with him, no matter how old he is. Now you need to figure out if you want him but aren't sure it seems like the right thing to do or if you just don't want him as much as he wants you.”

 

“How am I supposed to do that?”

 

She pursed her perfectly glossed lips and shrugged. “You know how.”

 

“Everyone keeps telling me ‘I know’ these things, but I don’t! You think I know how to understand my feelings, Derek thinks I know why he isn’t coming ba-”

 

Stiles cut off before he finished the sentence and Lydia drew a sharp breath beside him.

 

“You’ve talked to Derek?” It was obvious she was trying to stay calm about it, but Stiles could see the hurt in her eyes and he realized immediately that he should have told the pack.

 

“Lydia, I’m sorry. I meant to tell everyone but it just kept slipping my mind.”

 

“It ‘slipped your mind’? Derek never just slips your mind. You have almost never stopped thinking about Derek in the time that I’ve known you.” They walked in silence for a while before she spoke again. “Is he doing alright?”

 

“Yeah, he’s good. Living in Alaska at the moment.”

 

Lydia released an airy laugh at that, no doubt imagining the same image Stiles had when Derek had first told him. “I’m glad.” She replied softly. They parted then toward their separate classes and Stiles still had no clue what to do about Derek.

 

Naturally, when he didn’t know what to do about a problem, he ignored it. Ignoring this problem wasn’t going to be so easy though because Fei apparently wasn’t going to let him.

 

“I’m too tired for a normal lesson today, Fei. Yesterday knocked me on my ass.” Stiles said as he walked into the back room of the clinic. Lydia had decided to take Derek shopping so he could stop wearing Stiles’s ill-fitting hand-me-downs, and while the prospect of Lydia alone with the werewolf terrified Stiles, he was faintly relieved she’d given him an excuse to have the lesson alone.

 

“Well hello, Stiles. I had a very good day, too. Thank you.”

 

“Oh, uh, how are you?” He returned awkwardly.

 

“I'm fine.” She wore a pleased expression indicating that rather than ‘fine,’ she was utterly content to mess with Stiles however she could and he was beginning to realize there was little point in retaliating.

 

“So is there anything I can learn today that doesn't involve actively using my Spark? Because I don't have it in me.”

 

Her fingers drummed loudly on the metal table for a moment or two before she nodded. “Yes. We’ll use these off days to exercise your other muscles. A bit like magical cross-training.” She gestured at a foam pad on the floor. “I want you to lie down here.”

 

A bit confused, Stiles haltingly stepped toward the mat before taking his shoes off and lying down. He was about to ask what he was doing, but the question must have showed in his face because Fei beat him to speaking.

 

“Yesterday you figured out how to sync your Spark to Derek's breathing. That's fine if you have direct contact with your Source, but it's not the best way. A Spark originates from a werewolf’s heart, figuratively and literally. It's tied to the werewolf’s life, in that if the werewolf dies, the Spark leaves the human, but it's also tied to their feelings. You already know that part.” Stiles nodded awkwardly against the pliant foam. “Sparks are able to anchor themselves, even in the absence of their Source, by reaching out and finding their heart beat.”

 

Stiles raised a dubious eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

 

“It’s not as ridiculous as it sounds. Part of the reason your Spark becomes so out of control when Derek leaves is because it, in a manner of speaking, thinks he’s dead. Your job is to learn how to connect to Derek’s heartbeat in order to convince the Spark otherwise.”

 

“How do I do that?”

 

“Eventually it should come easily, but right now, lying down and meditating is the best way. There is something akin to a bridge between a Source and Spark and I want you to focus on letting your Spark find it and cross it. Once it does so, it will be able to span the bridge and link with Derek. I think you already did this once, with the help of Marin’s hypnosis.”

 

“But if that’s how it works, why didn’t I just transport Derek here from where he is right now?”

 

Fei closed her eyes and a furrow appeared between her eyebrows. Stiles had come to understand this meant she didn’t know and was frustrated he had asked. “Instead of finding the bridge to the present Derek, you somehow found a bridge to the past Derek and to be honest I don’t know how. I didn’t want to tell you this, but I have no clue how this bond formed between the two of you. All I know is that it exists and we have to work with it from there.”

 

“So I have a bridge spanning from me to two different versions of Derek. Am I supposed to choose one?”

 

“I don’t think so?” She didn’t sound remotely sure of herself, which wasn’t comforting. “It may be that your Spark understands both Derek’s and knows which it needs and when.”

 

“You’re saying I brought Derek forward in time simply because my Spark thought he was useful?”

 

Fei groaned and rubbed her temples. “I don’t know, Stiles. Nothing like this has ever happened to a Spark that I know of, but it’s the most logical explanation I have right now. I’ve been trying to figure it out. That’s how my day’s have been going.”

 

Despite being laid flat on the mattress, Stiles began to feel as though the room were spinning around him. Horrible thoughts of his selfishness flew through his mind bouncing off one another and competing for dominance. Could it be possible that he really only saw Derek as a means to an end? His Spark had nearly driven him insane from wanting Derek in the first place. It seemed reasonable that it could enhance the positive feelings he got by being around Derek because it wanted to keep him.

 

“Stiles! Stop thinking whatever you're thinking. Right now.”

 

Fei’s sharp voice seemed amplified in his head and it startled him from his thoughts long enough to calm their intensity. He took a few slow, even breaths before opening his eyes to meet Fei’s looking down on him.

 

“I shouldn’t have told you that, I’m sorry.” She said contritely. “I’m not very good at this, you know? I mean, I'm a good Spark, possibly one of the best, but there are lots of ways to become great, and my path was possibly the easiest I could have been given. I'm a religious person with a loving Source and I've grown up on faith and easy circumstances. I can recognize the difference between my journey and yours, but that doesn't help me ease your way.”

 

“You’re so comfortable with yourself, but…I don't like myself.” Admitted Stiles easily, as though Fei had been his confidante for years.

 

“I know.” She put her hand easily to his shoulder and they sat in turbulent quiet until the animals in the kennel room abruptly rose a cacophony and Fei grew alert. “Stiles I want you to go home now.”

 

“But the lesson…”

 

“Not important right now.” She insisted harshly. “I asked to talk to someone and they've come earlier than expected.”

 

Stiles grabbed his pack and trotted out to the Jeep, virtually pushed along by Fei. Whoever she had called was apparently not to meet him.

 

Knowing Derek would likely already be there, Stiles took his time driving back home. He stopped first at the grocery store to stock up on cheap, carb-heavy food he would no doubt need after lessons-to-come and then grabbed some drive-through curly fries and a burger for dinner that he proceeded to eat in the parking lot. Avoiding Derek wasn’t going to get him anywhere, but he didn’t know where he was supposed to find the heart to face him. The young werewolf clearly liked and trusted him so easily, but he didn’t deserve that affection.

 

Eventually he grew the nerve to return home and find Derek chatting with his dad over coffee in the kitchen. Dammit, Stiles had forgotten his dad didn’t have an evening shift that night.

 

“Um hey. Whatcha doing?” He stayed back awkwardly in the doorway, one foot still out the door. Every nerve was telling him to take the seat beside Derek, smile at him, perhaps bump knees in greeting, but he stayed put at a safe distance.

 

“Food?” Derek offered with a smile that nearly broke Stiles’s faint resolve.

 

He shook his head, struggling to meet Derek’s eye. “No, thanks. I forgot dad would be home so I already grabbed something.”

 

“Oh, alright. How was your lesson?” Derek’s smile was growing stiff.

 

“It was fine. Fei knew I was tired, so nothing exciting really.” Bold-faced lie. Derek’s smile faded and the sheriff narrowed his eyes at his son. “I have a lot of homework due tomorrow, though, so I’m going to go work on that. I’ll be in my room.” He escaped before the glassy tinge in Derek’s eye could hit him too hard.

 

Though he did truly have a great deal of work to finish for the next day, Stiles found himself repeatedly reading the same passages and problems. The words blurred together in his mind and faded away before he could make sense of them. Half an hour passed and he was looking at the measly half a page of math he had managed when Derek stepped in.

 

“Do you need help with anything?” Stiles’s shoulders tensed at his voice, bashful and nervous.

 

“I’m fine.” He replied curtly, not trusting his voice past monosyllables to uphold his new resolve.

 

“Well, here.” Derek placed a mug of coffee on the desk beside his book. “You seemed like you could use it.”

 

Stiles hated his small voice and nervous tone; hated how he doted on Stiles as if he deserved the favors. He hated that he was doing that to Derek- the broken, defeated, and used young man- but hated more that it was better for Derek this way. More than all else, Stiles hated that he wasn’t the kind of person Derek should have because he wanted to be so badly.

 

“That should help, thank you.” He looked up fleetingly to deliver a cheerless smile, his gaze only reaching Derek’s jaw before he returned to his book.

 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Derek returned vacantly before shuffling over to the bed. “Are you going to have time for a movie later?” He spoke with the defeat of already knowing the answer but hoping he was wrong.

 

Tears pricked behind Stiles’s eyes at the pleading quality to the query. “No, I don’t think so. You can use my computer.” His voice choked on his tightening throat and it came out angrier than he intended. Silently cursing himself, Stiles stared blankly at his books as he listened to Derek slip under his sheets and pull up the movie. Through sheer force of will, Stiles succeeded in pushing his turmoil aside long enough to get through his work, but it was near 1 AM when he finished and Derek had fallen asleep long ago.

 

Stiles slid into his sheets and tried futilely to fall asleep for another hour when Derek woke with a snarl, and his defenses broke momentarily.

 

“Nightmare?” He asked, sitting upright from the floor to check Derek with concern.

 

“Yeah.” Derek’s voice was still verging on a growl.

 

“What about?” Why was he asking?

“Nothing important.” Derek’s voice had become tight and controlled, as though straining to not reveal too much. “Just go back to sleep.”

 

They both lay back in their perspective beds but Stiles was fully aware neither of them slept, though they pretended valiantly. When light broke, Derek left through the window without a word and Stiles let his tears fall.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the change in tone is keeping you interested!
> 
> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [thehyacinthgirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thehyacinthgirl) for betaing!
> 
> I made a few minor changes to the timeline in earlier chapters because I'm super anal retentive and realized I didn't have the date of the full moon right when I started writing. So just in case a date or anything comes up and it doesn't sound right to you (if you've paid that much attention I'm impressed) that's why!

Stiles managed to stay awake at school that day only by taking meticulously color coded notes. The focus it required also kept his brain strictly trained away from thoughts of Derek, which he wasn’t sure he could tolerate without breaking down in class. Obviously the topic was unavoidable once lunch came, because Lydia had of course spilled the beans that he had been in touch with their Derek.

 

“Dude, what the hell?” Scott burst as he reached the table with his food. “How could you not tell us you’ve talked to Derek?”

 

Stiles groaned. “Thank you, Lydia, so much. You couldn’t have kept that to yourself until I was ready to share.”

 

“I wasn’t aware it was such a difficult topic.”

 

“Well, it is and I don’t want to talk about either Derek right now so can we move along to something else?”

 

“What’s eating you?” Malia asked.

 

Stiles still couldn’t quite bring himself to look at her without seeing her face right as he’d shot Theo so stared into his sandwich as he snarked back. “My life is literally just centered on Derek right now. Is it so hard to believe I want some time away from him?”

 

The bite in his tone ended that train of conversation immediately and the pack ate in uncomfortable silence for a while before Mason spoke.

 

“So what’s Fei taught you so far? Anything you could show us?”

 

“Oh, um. I’m not sure.” He felt largely back to strength despite the lack of sleep and his coffee could use reheating so Stiles figured a little practice couldn’t hurt. “I’ve never managed to do it without Derek, but I boiled water once, so I could try to show you that.”

 

He took the lid off his coffee and closed his eyes as he looked for the Spark that had migrated from his throat to his lungs. Asking it to look for Derek’s heart was harder than he expected, which made sense given that Fei hadn’t taught him how yet, but he decided to just let the Spark do what it felt was right. It travelled like warm liquid through the veins that connected his lungs to his heart, filling each of the four chambers with blue heat and sending tendrils out into the void surrounding the light. Each tendril felt around before seemingly hitting a blockage a retreating to the main Spark, but finally one found its way out of the confines of his body and the moment it reached its target Stiles felt his heartbeat change. The knowledge seemed to originate from nowhere, but he was acutely aware that the tendril had found his Derek, alive and well far away.

 

Having finally managed to anchor the Spark, if only for a moment, Stiles directed the energy at the liquid in his cup. He opened his eyes in time to see steam begin rising from the previously stale coffee and he severed the energy hanging between himself and the liquid before he spent too much on it. Cutting the tie seemed to release the tension within him and Stiles sagged in his seat, shivering slightly as though he’d lost a few degrees.

 

“Intense.” Mason said, his voice awestruck.

 

“I did it!” Stiles cheered softly, beaming disbelievingly at the steaming cup. “Holy shit, I have to tell Fei.”

 

Stiles: Fei, I did it! I found Derek’s heartbeat and boiled water!

 

He anticipated she would take a while to respond, but his phone buzzed a surprisingly short time later.

 

Fei: You did it? Just on your own? Congratulations.

 

Then another a short moment later she sent another message to both him and Derek.

 

Fei: I want both of you at the lesson today. We have real work to do. Be at the clinic at 4:30 sharp.

 

All his accumulated joy at having successfully completed his first task plummeted at the thought of having a lesson with Derek when he couldn’t even look him in the eye. He knew that pulling away from Derek was mean, but he also couldn't see anyway around it. Stiles had no idea what sending Derek back would involve, but putting him back in his time potentially thinking he'd been taken advantage of and used for Stiles’s own comfort was not something he could stomach. Even if he could somehow put Derek back memory-free he couldn't tolerate what it would mean about himself and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to face his Derek again.

 

“Stiles. Stiles!” Lydia's sharp voice brought him back swiftly. “You okay there?”

 

“Oh, yeah. Just spaced out.”

 

“You smell…” Scott started’ hesitantly.

 

“I don't want to talk about it right now. I'm working on it.” He picked up his tray abruptly and left the table, leaving his friends to watch after him in confusion.

 

Being greeted by Derek’s smile at Deaton's clinic that afternoon sent his heart thundering in anxiety and he returned a tense, thin-lipped smile. Again, Derek's warmth faltered but he kept pushing and Stiles wanted to slam him against the wall to make Derek stop giving him so much.

 

“How was your day?” Derek asked. “Fei said you boiled water on your own?”

 

“Yeah. I got it to work.” He didn't offer more details and Derek didn't bother pressing.

 

“Okay.” Fei announced as she stepped into the room. “I can't tell you who I got this information from, but I know how we send Derek back.”

 

Derek's eyes widened. “Already?” From Derek's tone, the idea was clearly an unhappy one and Stiles hated himself for feeling vaguely relieved.

 

“What do I have to do?” He asked, more urgently than intended. The hurt look Derek shot him made his stomach squirm.

 

Fei narrowed her eyes at him briefly, her lips pursed judgmentally. “You will escort Derek back in time and then return yourself to the present. After you've returned Derek, you will remove his memories of what he experienced here in his future.”

 

Stiles stared at her a few moments as he struggled to wrap his mind around the information. “I can do that? Just take his memories?”

 

“Only Derek's memories.”

 

“That's so messed up. What kind of power is that? I could completely manipulate his memory if I wanted to!” Stiles wasn't sure when he's started yelling.

 

She sighed heavily and her shoulders sagged a little. “Yes, technically you could. There are many powers that Sparks possess that worry the supernatural community, but the Spark bond isn't concerned with our human morality, and it allows you to do what you need to stay safe with your Source.”

 

“You talk about it like it’s alive.” Derek spoke quietly.

 

“Isn't it? It's a manifestation of human emotion. It will do what it can to maintain balance with its Source.”

 

“So it can act on its own?”

 

“Not the way you're thinking.” Fei’s tone held a warning Stiles chose not to heed.

 

“I didn’t intend to bring Derek forward. That was never what I wanted. The Spark decided to bring him here and I didn’t have a say in that.” Stiles was yelling again and Derek had pressed himself so firmly against the wall he could have cracked the drywall any moment. The only movement that followed his outburst was that of Stiles turning his head to look at Derek’s shrinking form and guilt settled heavily upon him for making the other boy feel like an unwanted child. “I need to…” He struggled to speak as the heat built at the back of his throat. “I need to leave.”

 

Stiles pushed his way past Derek and his stricken face, pointedly refusing to look at him. Fei stared at him furiously but said nothing, seeming to know she couldn't reason with Stiles’s obsessive guilt.

 

Upon returning home, Stiles wrapped himself as tightly as he could in his blankets, as though the pressure of the cotton could hold him together against the force of the angry tremors that shook him. The sheets smelled unbearably of Derek, however, and he couldn’t stand it for long before unravelling from them and braving the trip downstairs for a bowl of cereal. His homework proved to be a powerful distracting mechanism and he had finished a good portion of the upcoming week’s work when Derek slipped in through his window near 10:30. Without a word he changed into his pajamas and slid into Stiles’s bed.

 

The air grew tense the longer Stiles remained at his desk, doing nothing more than staring down his textbook. Eventually he couldn’t tolerate the dead silence any more, snapped the book shut, and prepared for bed. He delayed in the bathroom longer than necessary, brushing and flossing with great care before scrubbing his face clean. It was as though he were attempting to clear himself of the bitter scent of fear and anxiety he knew Derek could smell and would think was directed at him when it wasn't really. The emotions were nebulous, lacking any clear target, but they were eating away at Stiles like parasites.

 

He had more nightmares that night and Derek offered to come down and sleep next to him, but Stiles refused and spent the rest of the night drifting in and out.

 

School the next day seemed unfathomable, but Stiles had been to school through worse and he trudged through. He fell asleep twice, only to be woken by a harsh whisper from Lydia and a rap on the back of the head from Malia. His body felt heavier as the day progressed and he took his free period to take a nap in the nurse’s office, claiming he felt sick but couldn’t miss his last class by going home.

 

The thought of class with Fei and Derek made him feel numb, so he steered the Jeep home after school, deliberately skipping the lesson. When Derek came in through the window that evening he found Stiles watching a movie in bed.

 

“You weren’t at class.” He said blandly.

 

“Nope.” Stiles replied without looking up.

 

“We’re meeting tomorrow at 4:30 like usual.” Derek pressed.

 

“Sounds great.”

 

Derek didn’t try speaking to him the rest of the night.

 

“Stiles, hello. I’m glad you actually made it today.” Fei said flatly the moment he entered the back room. “Are you going to do what I tell you now?”

 

“Yes, Fei, I’ll do what you tell me.” Stiles snarked back. Derek wasn't looking at him.

 

“Alright. As I was saying on Thursday, the goal is to take Derek back in time and remove his memory of the future and return yourself to the present.”

 

“Stiles has to go back with me?” Derek asked.

 

“Yes. It complicates the process but it's the only way to get around the limitations of the Spark power. Stiles was able to bring you here because he's here, but he can't send you back alone because he's not there.”

 

“But I was technically here back then.” Stiles argued.

 

“Yes, which is why you have to go back with him. You can connect to your past self in the right time and travel back using him as an anchor, and you'll essentially take Derek with you like a carry on.”

 

“Then how do I come back?”

 

“You'll need to use present day Derek as an anchor to return.”

 

“Piece. Of. Cake.” Stiles spoke slowly, emphasizing each word sarcastically. “So how do I practice?”

 

“We're going to start by practicing the memory removal. It's safer and will give you more practice controlling your Spark before you attempt traveling time. Basically you do it by visualizing a memory and believing he’ll forget. You don't have to be able to imagine the memory, just understand what aspects of his life you'd like him to forget. In this case it will be whatever timeframe he was here. I want you to start on inconsequential memories. Ones that if you mess up, it won't be an unfortunate loss.”

 

“Like what I had for breakfast this morning?” Derek offered.

 

“Exactly. So Stiles you'll need to establish some physical contact with him and then just focus on his memory of breakfast this morning and make him forget what he had.”

 

Stiles hesitated as he turned to face Derek. A couple days ago touching him would have felt natural, but now everywhere he could think to touch was wrong. His face was too intimate, his hand was too familiar, his shoulder too friendly. He settled for splaying his palm across Derek's chest which was firm, warm, and made Stiles’s stomach coil. Stiles could feel Derek staring at him but he refused to look back, stubbornly staring at his feet instead.

 

The now familiar heat of the Spark lit in his heart when he called on it and he focused on Derek's memory of breakfast that morning. Blue tendrils erupted from the Spark and extended through the space in Stiles’s mind until they reached Derek’s and began pressing tentatively inward. Each probe sent minute jolts of sensation and awareness through Stiles that were not his own and he realized each was a sample of an incorrect memory. It made him increasingly uncomfortable as Stiles became aware of more and more of Derek’s inner self the more mistakes he made in finding the memory so he doubled his efforts on focusing on the proper memory. Gradually the tendrils began locking in place and twining around one another until they appeared to have formed a tiny woven ball within Derek’s brain and suddenly he could taste the eggs and cereal he’d eaten at Deaton’s that morning with an intensity he had never experienced eating such basic foods. The force of Derek’s werewolf senses almost severed the connection but Stiles managed to hold it long enough to pull the tiny glowing sphere from Derek’s mind.

 

As the connection broke, black closed in on Stiles’s vision and his legs turned useless beneath him. Strong arms caught him and placed him on the metal table where his body lay numb and cold and his vision blurred. It wasn't clear how long he lay there, partially tuned into the sounds of Fei and Derek beside him but too weak to engage them. The haze over his vision cleared slowly and feeling returned to his limbs until finally he could find it in him to try and sit. Derek ultimately had to help with the endeavor but he got to a sitting position eventually and began chewing at the chocolate Fei all but pushed into his mouth.

 

Once he had finally recovered enough to stand, Derek spoke.

 

“It worked. I don't remember what I ate this morning.”

 

“Eggs and cereal.” Stiles said without thinking. “And your favorite color is green and you love sour patch kids.”

 

“Why do you know all that?” Asked Derek, at the same time Fei said, “Ah, so that's why it took so long.”

 

“What do you mean? How long did I take?”

 

“You took about 45 minutes to find the memory and remove it and then you lay there for almost an hour.” She chuckled a bit at Stiles’s bewildered expression. “This is why you need to practice. Focusing your intent on a particular memory takes a lot of skill and if you don't do it right, your Spark does a lot of…sampling, you could call it. Your Spark was looking for the right memory, because you weren't clear enough about where it should go.”

 

“How am I supposed to know that?” Stiles growled.

 

“Don't be discouraged. I didn't expect you to get it right the first time. I'm actually impressed you got it at all.”

 

“But why do I have the memories now? I don't want them. I don't want to come out of this remembering everything he thought and experienced.”

 

“I didn't realize that would be so horrible.” Derek quipped quietly.

 

“It's private!” Stiles burst. “I don't care if it's good or bad, it's yours. I shouldn't get to know you like that when…” He broke off. He meant to say ‘when Derek won't ever get to know me that thoroughly,’ but it hurt to think, let alone say.

 

“If you learn how to do this properly, you can section the memories away from your consciousness. If the present Derek ever wants them back, you can give them to him.”

 

With how he was treating the younger Derek, assuming this eventually worked, Stiles wasn’t sure he ever wanted Derek to know he could have the memories back. He didn't want Derek having any knowledge of how he treated his younger self, because this young Derek was maybe too hurt to fight back but his Derek most certainly was not.

 

“Will it take less energy eventually?”

 

“Definitely. Every misplaced probe expended a huge amount of your resources. Given how long the process took, I'm honestly surprised you didn't faint before you succeeded.”

 

“Are you going to be okay getting home?” Derek asked timidly.

 

“I'll be fine. You can just come over later tonight if you want to.” Stiles wanted Derek to go home with him then, to make him take a nap while he cooked an overflowing tray of food again, but he couldn't ask that because Derek would just do it because that's what Derek did. He let people trample him into the ground but he kept giving them everything.

 

Stiles met Derek’s eye for the first time in what felt like eternity, but it wasn't comforting like it used to be. Derek's gaze was closed off and his face pinched, and Stiles tried keeping his face neutral but it felt sad and defeated instead. “If that's what you want.”

 

Fei watched them sharply.

 

Stiles took the smallest backroads home, driving significantly under the speed limit should he pass out. It was unwise and he was fully aware he should have called Parrish or his dad for a ride home but wise wasn't how he typically described himself. He ended up having to pull over a few times to regain focus of the road but he eventually made it to his driveway and practically dragged himself to bed.

 

In a moment of smart thinking, he'd left the snacks he'd bought in the drawers next to his bed and he proceeded to curl into the blankets on the inflatable mattress while munching at cookies and chips. He expected the snacks to revitalize him enough to get out of bed and make an actual healthy dinner but Stiles passed out cold about half an hour later, bags of food lying almost empty beside him.

 

He stirred momentarily when Derek slipped through the window but it didn't take long to fall back into unconsciousness.

 

The next day the pack gathered for brunch at Lydia’s house and they discussed what to do over the full moon the next day. Though the events with Theo had led to very few positive discoveries, it had taught them to change a few of their ways, with one being how they dealt with the full moon. Malia had mastered controlling her shift, but Liam still struggled and Derek clearly did too.  Kira proposed a group movie night at her house. Her mom would be there and could help them if anything happened and the whole pack would be there and could help calm Derek and Liam if anything happened. It seemed like the best and most pack-like option and they agreed to meet at Kira’s the next night at 7, just after the moon would begin to rise.

 

“I want you to remove a time frame this time.” Fei prompted once Stiles entered the clinic later that afternoon. “Instead of taking a concrete thing, I want you to take a moment in time. What would be okay to take Derek?”

 

The boy stood and thought for a while. “Can you take my first night at Deaton's? I don't like remembering that.”

 

Stiles looked hesitantly at him. “I don't know if I should. I haven't figured out how to block the memories off.”

 

“I don't care if you know.”

 

“I don't want to know Derek.”

 

“So you'd rather I remember?”

 

“That’s how it works, Derek. People work through their own shit.”

 

Derek stood, his hands in fists, neck tight with tension. He stared at Stiles for several long seconds before his fingers unclenched and he took a long, slightly shaking breath.

 

No, Stiles thought to himself. He was supposed to get angry. Say something mean back. Anything but remain this passive receiver of all the crap Stiles threw at him.

 

“Fine. Take the night we watched the movie.”

 

Stiles eyes widened. That was theoretically one of the fondest memories Derek had of the future so far, and he was willing to give it up so Stiles remembered instead. Was it a punishment? To know everything Derek felt during that night, along with his own feelings, but not have Derek remember would crush him. Not wanting Derek to see how strongly the decision affected him, Stiles set his jaw and nodded.

 

“Fine.”

 

He stepped forward and pressed his palm to Derek’s chest, once more focusing intently upon the night they watched ‘The Hulk’ and ended up falling asleep together. Finding the memory was surprisingly easy, but encompassing it completely in the Spark was difficult and wisps of it kept escaping the bright blue tendrils. Every time he grabbed more of the memory Stiles was bombarded by the sensations and emotions Derek remembered from that night and they were all too much for him. That night was far more important than he had guessed, and the happiness and comfort Derek had felt flooded him with a warmth that made him buzz. Each touch they had shared sank into his skin at once and it was so overwhelming his body jerked as though it could help him escape the intensity. The sound of his own voice in his head, heard through the filter of Derek’s ears, nearly caused him to collapse from the sheer weight they carried in the memory, as though nothing was more valuable to the other boy than Stiles’s support.

 

The taste of overly salty popcorn and Sprite, the scent of Stiles’s short-lived content, and the feeling of their warm bodies laid side-by-side on the inflatable bed perfused his senses. Stiles felt he could no longer endure more of the memory but he had to finish, had to show this didn’t matter so much to him. Finally he found the end when Derek had finally fallen asleep again, and he snapped the intertwining tendrils together and yanked the memory from Derek. Upon severing the connection, he found that he had fallen back into the chair, his fingertips barely maintaining the physical connection to Derek, and his cheeks were wet. Derek’s eyes were closed and Stiles took the chance to wipe the tears away with his flannel.

 

“Did it work Derek?” Fei asked when Stiles didn't appear likely to speak.

 

“I don't remember it.” The wolf said quietly.

 

Stiles’s face tightened and his nose twitched as he attempted to stifle his running nose.

 

“Are you okay, Stiles? How do you feel?”

 

“I'm fine.” He lied.

 

“Do you want to practice putting it back?”

 

“Why would I do that? I'm going to have to take them all eventually anyway. What's the point of him having that one back?”

 

“What if I wanted it back?” Derek asked. “Would you keep it from me?”

 

“You said you didn't want it.”

 

“Yeah, I definitely freely chose to give one of the few good memories I have from here.”

 

“I didn't force you.” Stiles muttered but immediately regretted it as he heard a sound escape Derek as though the air had been punched from him. He looked up worriedly. “I didn’t-”

 

“Are we done here?” Derek interrupted.

  
“Yes, I think so.” Fei said tightly. “I’d like to talk to you though, Derek. You can go Stiles.”

 

Stiles near ran out the room, almost forgetting his backpack.

 

It was clear throughout the day that the full moon was affecting everyone, even Scott, who had mastered maintaining his typical placid nature even during the actual moon rise long ago. Malia was sent to the principal’s office for pushing a boy getting in her way against some lockers, Liam barely held back when a teacher criticized the work he put on the board, and Hayden had to walk out of class before ripping the top of her desk off.

 

When Stiles walked into the lesson that afternoon, Derek was holding himself tensely against the wall adjacent the door, his fingers pressed firmly into his palms.

 

“What are we doing today?” Stiles asked.

 

“I think we should go backwards a little bit and have you practice taking the simpler memories but block them from your consciousness as you do so.”

 

“How do I do that?”

 

“In very much the same way, but you have to use your Spark to shield your mind before you enter his. Once you’ve protected your mind from his memories, the tendrils can still find the right ones and take them, but you will not have conscious knowledge of them.”

 

“That sounds... complicated.” Stiles thought about it a while longer before an idea came to him. “Is it possible to practice first on the memory I took yesterday? Or is it too late to block a memory off once I have it?”

 

Fei began to speak but Derek suddenly shot off the wall and stepped aggressively towards Stiles.

 

“What is your problem?” He burst out loudly as his eyes flashed angry blue. “Is it so awful for you to understand my thoughts and feelings? To know that I enjoy our time together? Do you just want me gone that badly?”

 

Stiles stood and stared at the angry and half-shifted Derek in surprise. He hadn’t really anticipated Derek would call him out for his behavior and now that he had, Stiles didn’t know how to reply. As a result, only a tiny strangled grunt fell from his lips.

 

“I’m going to be out in the lobby.” Fei spoke awkwardly into the gap before moving herself quickly out the door.

 

“You owe me an explanation, Stiles. I don’t deserve this.”

 

“That’s exactly it,” said Stiles finally. “You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve for me to use you as some kind of comfort blanket while I have you.”

 

“But I won’t even remember Stiles! It doesn’t matter if that’s what you do.”

 

“Of course it matters. Bringing you here wasn’t done on my free will and I don’t know if me wanting you here is because I wanted you here or because the Spark did.”

 

“Free will? Is that what this is all about?” Derek asked exasperatedly. “You think the Spark is controlling you?”

 

“I’ve had something in me before that made me do things I didn’t want to do, Derek!” He yelled back, body trembling ferociously at the memory of the Nogitsune. “I’ve watched from inside myself as my body set traps to kill people. I’ve listened as my voice said things to manipulate people. I have no idea how I brought you here or what part of me decided you were the right choice. I have no idea if-” he trailed off before finishing his thought, afraid to share that information with Derek.

 

“If what Stiles?” Derek had finally calmed enough to shift back but an edge still hung in his tone that warned Stiles to be honest for once.

 

“If I actually like you as much as I do or if it’s just the Spark making me because it’s happy.”

 

Derek simply stared at him for a few minutes, wonder mixing with relief in his eyes, before a tentative smile crept up his lips.

 

“What?” Stiles asked.

 

“The Spark can’t do that.” He answered softly. “I don’t know a lot about them, but Spark’s can’t control their host. They can only act out wishes and desires the host has.”

 

“But I’ve never met you.” Stiles insisted, though he was secretly relieved to hear that. “How would my Spark even know I wanted you, instead of the present Derek?”

 

Derek shook his head a bit helplessly. “I don’t know Stiles, but I need you to stop treating me like this. I may not remember any of this when you send me back but I deserve to feel respected and cared for while I’m here. You don’t get to just throw me aside because you’re not sure it’s right for you.”

 

The blanket of tension and anger that had wrapped Stiles tight for the past few days began to loosen at the sincerity in Derek’s words. He still didn’t fully trust himself, and he wasn’t sure he ever would, but it was his responsibility to keep those issues from hurting the people he cared about. When Stiles didn’t reply, Derek spoke again.

 

“Are we okay? Do you think we can go back to how we were before you panicked?”

 

“What were we?” He couldn’t commit himself to anything with this Derek. It was impossible for that to be permanent in any way, and he needed Derek to understand that.

 

“Two boys who enjoyed each other’s company and cuddling?” Derek grinned shyly.

 

Stiles did desperately miss the comfort of physical contact with Derek more than he imagined he would. He shot Derek a small smile and nodded. “That sounds nice.”

 

The other boy’s smile grew wider and he nodded his head toward the door. “You want me to go get Fei?”

 

“Yeah, sounds good. Thanks.”

 

Stiles hoisted himself up onto the metal table and let his feet kick the air as he breathed a little easier and simultaneously felt like a bit of a moron for not sharing his fears with Fei earlier.

 

Fei and Derek walked back in then and she sent him her first legitimate smile in days.

 

“I know we said we were going to have you practice sealing the memory away, but Derek has actually asked if you would give it back. It works very similarly to taking a memory, but it should be much easier.”

 

It was indeed much easier, and only 10 minutes later Stiles had successfully removed Derek’s version of the memory from his mind and replaced it in the other boy.

 

They stood still for a few moments after he finished and Stiles left his hand pressed firmly against Derek’s chest and he watched an almost imperceptible smile touch his lips as he re-remembered the night.

 

Stiles’s alarm went off then, shaking them from the peaceful moment and he grabbed his phone quickly to shut it off.

 

“Time to head over to Kira’s for the moon. Can we head out Fei?”

 

She smiled and waved her hands at them in such a fond “shooing” motion Stiles suddenly had the urge to call her mom and the feeling made his throat swell tight for a moment.

 

They arrived at Kira’s house late and the rest of the pack had already gathered in the living room for pizza.

 

“About time you two. What took so long?” Lydia asked.

 

“Sorry. Lesson ran over a bit.” Stiles walked into the space the pack opened up in the circle and Derek followed beside him. Their knees bumped together as they reached for pizza and Stiles smiled despite himself. The group decided on “10 Things I Hate About You” while they ate and Kira pulled it up as they settled in for the evening.

 

Lydia and Kira sat on either side of Malia to help ground her when she struggled, while Scott and Hayden (who as a Chimera didn’t seem to have control issues) sat on either side of Liam.

 

Derek curled into a corner of the sofa and Stiles squished in between him and Scott.

 

“You doing alright?” Stiles muttered even though half the members in the room would be able to hear him anyway.

 

“I think so. It’s kind of itching at me, but it’s not so bad. Are you doing something?”

 

The question caught Stiles off guard. He wasn’t actively trying to help Derek with the moon, but maybe making peace had helped their Spark’s re-anchor with one another. He shook his head. “No, but maybe the Spark is.”

  
There were a few incidences throughout the evening as the moon rose, but everyone generally maintained control or were able to calm themselves back down. Derek slipped into sleep halfway through their second movie and his head fell against Stiles’s shoulder. He let himself relax into the wolf and Lydia put a blanket over the both of them not long before he too was equally asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Thanks for sticking with me, lovelies <3 
> 
> I've dropped a couple hints in this this chapter about what's going on in the timeline. If you have any theories about how this all works out, drop them in the comments or come talk to me on my tumblr in the end notes! It will all be revealed next chapter :)
> 
> Thanks to [thehyacinthgirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thehyacinthgirl) for betaing!

Mr. Yukimura woke the pack up for school the next morning with the friendly banging of pots and pans making breakfast. Stiles stirred and found himself nearly melded to Derek with how tightly pressed his side was to the other boy’s. Derek was awake already but hadn't appeared to move out of what seemed like an uncomfortable position.

 

“Good morning.” He said once he registered that Stiles had woken. “You sleep okay?”

 

Stiles smiled and nodded, but winced as his neck cracked. “Surprisingly yeah, but I don't think my neck is too happy with me.”

 

“Want me to fix it?”

 

“Are you sure? Doesn't that hurt you too?”

 

It was Derek's turn to smile then. “Only for a couple seconds and then we’re both better.”

 

“Okay, thanks.” The neck pain wasn't a big deal, but the improvement in communication was meaningful and Stiles could feel another barrier lifting between them as Derek pressed his palm to his neck and black flowed through his veins for a few seconds. Pain flooded from the cramp in his neck and the muscles relaxed not long after, leaving him feeling as though he'd slept the night just like any other with his favorite pillow. 

 

He made no effort to move when Derek finished and the wolf gave him a funny look. “You should probably get ready for school, you know?” 

 

Later, as he and Lydia were walking from the parking lot, Stiles was acutely aware of the considering gaze she had fixed on him.

 

“Oh God, Lydia, what?” He asked when he couldn’t take the scrutiny any longer. 

 

“He really likes you, you know?” 

 

“I know.” Stiles replied shortly, even as his stomach swooped.

 

“And you really like him.” 

 

“I hadn't thought about it.” He lied. 

 

“Uh-huh.” Lydia answered before sticking her chin out in thought. “None of us will care, you know. If you like him. Or if you like the adult Derek. Or both.”

 

The acceptance was oddly comforting, despite them having had several gay friends. 

 

“You don't think it would be weird?”

 

“What? You liking boys or you being with Derek? The present Derek.” She clarified after a confused pause.

 

“Me liking boys. Derek wouldn't…”

 

“Oh my God, don't even go there! Of course Derek never showed interest. You're in high school. Did it ever occur to you that might have been part of why he left?” 

 

Stiles blinked dumbly a few times before scoffing at her, shaking his finger in her direction for emphasis. “That's ridiculous, Lydia. He left because Braeden left.” 

 

“Stiles, if you think those two had one ounce of real romantic affection for each other, you're even more blind than I thought. I have to get to math now.” With that, she and her perfect little skirt flounced off in a manner so self-satisfied that Stiles was almost offended.

 

Did he have feelings for his Derek? He knew he liked the younger Derek, but he was friendly, warm, and open and it was easy to picture them together. Not so much with his Derek. The older man had become a facet of his life the moment Scott had been bitten, but somewhere along the way he'd become  _ the _ facet, irreplaceable by any of the other valuable people in his life. Despite that, Stiles had only entertained nebulous romantic feelings for him and even those he had quickly shoved away because they coincided with both of them dating other people. That thought inevitably led to the memory of what Lydia had said not long before about Derek leaving partially because he'd been in high school. It irked at him all morning until he practically slammed his tray down next to hers at lunch in his need to clear up the matter.

 

“What do you mean Derek left because I'm in high school?”

 

Everyone at the table turned startled looks on him at the unexpected topic, but Lydia smiled in that pitying sort of way. 

 

“I didn't say he did, I said he may have.”

 

“But you wouldn't have said it at all if you didn't know something.”

 

“If by ‘know something,’ Stiles, you mean ‘Derek sat me down and we had a nice long chat about his feelings’ then, no, I don't know anything. But you and Derek were very close and Derek would do anything for you.” Stiles stared at her, completely unimpressed so she continued. “How long did you talk when you called him?”

 

Stiles thought back for a moment. “About two-and-a-half hours. Until I fell asleep.”

 

Scott and Kira, the only pack members left who knew Derek with any real depth, ogled at that particular information while Lydia continued to smirk. 

 

“Do you remember that time we were hanging out at the loft working on the bestiary and Isaac called to check in?” Stiles nodded. “Do you remember how long Derek talked to him for?” Stiles shook his head this time. “About long enough to know he wasn't in any trouble, school was okay, and France was nice, before he gave the phone to Scott because that was enough sharing for him. He talked to you of his own free will for hours. You had hours worth of things to talk about. Don't you think that means something?”

 

Kira and Scott nodded vigorously while Liam just looked vaguely impressed and Malia munched at her pizza with a bit of a nod. Stiles felt bad she had to sit through this and was about to propose they change the topic when she spoke. 

 

“Little Derek likes you too, you know. It's not that unreasonable he'd like you at any age.”

 

“But he didn't like me when Kate de-aged him.” 

 

“Yeah, but she took him back to an age when he still thought he was in love with her.”

 

“He still totally had a soft-spot for you dude.” Offered Scott. “He liked you way better than he liked me.”

 

“That could have to do with you being a scary, unfamiliar alpha and all, you know?” Stiles countered, stubbornly refusing to believe Derek could like him as much as the pack was saying.

 

“I’m not scary!” 

 

“Says the dude who duct taped me in a bathtub.” Liam muttered. He and Scott were still not on superb terms since their supermoon battle, and the schism had brought old events back into light between the two. Though they hadn’t officially left the pack because of Liam’s loyalty to Mason, he and Hayden spent much of their free time with Brett and his little sister. He had known for some time that Satomi’s philosophy lent him greater control over his shift ever since Stiles had helped him on the trip to Mexico, and his wavering allegiance was making Scott uneasy. Liam was his only true beta and the idea of losing him was an unpleasant thought. Needless to say, he didn’t reply and the table fell into an uncomfortable silence, the relative normality of chatting about Stiles’s love-life crumpled with ease. 

 

Derek met him at the Jeep again that afternoon, sporting Stiles’s mom’s Mets cap under a blue hoodie. The sight made his stomach squirm a bit, as no had worn the hat since his mom had died.

 

“Still borrowing my clothes?” Stiles tried to keep his tone neutral as he crossed the parking lot. He barely made out the teasing quirk of an eyebrow from the distance, but it made his heart pick-up nonetheless. 

 

“Lydia refused to buy me baseball caps. Called them a crime to fashion. I hope it’s okay.”

 

Stiles chuckled, imagining Lydia slapping Derek’s hand away as he reached for a cap. “Sounds about right. Keep it as long as you like. I don’t wear it.” It wasn’t truly a lie, but the essence behind it was and Stiles felt the heat in his cheeks spike as he said it. Derek narrowed his eyes at the falsehood.

 

“You don’t want me wearing it?” The concern in his voice was too much for Stiles.

 

“No that’s not it. It’s-” He broke off for a moment before finishing. “It was my mom’s. No one’s worn it since she died.”

 

“Oh Stiles, I had no idea. It didn’t smell like anything so I figured you just didn’t wear it much.” He reached to take the cap off, but Stiles reached up and grabbed his hand to stop him. 

 

“No it’s okay. Really. Someone should wear it.” Stiles smiled, pulling Derek’s hand back down to his side, skimming his thumb over the soft skin of his knuckles before letting go. “Besides, I know you’ll take care of it.”

 

Derek blushed heavily and shook his head at the ground. “There’s no way you could know that.”

 

“You just put everyone else first.  It’s what you do and I guess always have done.”

 

Derek stared at him, slightly bemused for a moment, before leaning forward quickly and pressing a kiss to Stiles’s cheek so fleeting he barely felt it. Stiles opened his eyes wide and his lips parted in surprise.

 

“I-I’m sorry. That just sort of happened. You can forget about it. Won’t happen again.”

 

Before Derek could turn away and close off, Stiles reached out swiftly and grabbed his hand once more. 

 

“Hey, hey. What if I want it to happen again? Two boys who like cuddling, remember?” 

 

Derek watched him worriedly for a moment longer before letting his eyes crinkle in a grin. 

 

“Okay. Let’s get to the lesson then.” Derek gave his hand a last squeeze before pulling away and slipping into the passenger seat. 

 

Thoughts of kissing Derek flew around in Stiles’s mind on the drive to the clinic, and he would be the first to admit that no matter how old Derek was, it was difficult to picture. He settled on the decision that that was likely more the result of never actually having kissed a boy than not wanting to do so, because he most certainly wanted to. Upon arriving at the clinic, Stiles had already imagined numerous possibilities for how to finally kiss Derek and everyone felt awkward and exciting in equal measure.

 

“You coming?” Derek said suddenly, and Stiles realized he was already at the clinic door and waiting for Stiles to open it for him.

 

“Oh, yeah. Coming!” He tumbled out of the car and pulled the door open for the smirking werewolf. “What?” Stiles asked as a flush spread over his cheeks.

 

“A little distracted, are we?” Derek asked back cheekily, though his face was equally pink. 

 

“Oh shut up.” Stiles teased back playfully. 

 

“You survived the full moon then?” Fei asked when they walked back.

 

“Surprisingly well, yeah.” Derek answered. “Once we sorted stuff out, the anger just sort of fell away. I could feel it but it was like a side-thought. I haven't been that in control in months.”

 

“Excellent. That means you've harnessed Stiles as your anchor which should make it easier for him to anchor back to you.”

 

“So what are we going to practice today?”

 

“You won't actually be moving yourself today, because that would be a big skill leap. 

You are going to practice finding yourself in different times and anchoring on. Once you've learned to do that, moving yourself is the tricky part.”

 

“Okay then. So do I look for a specific time or am I aiming for some kind of landmark?”

 

“I'm going to have you practice both. You'll be using a landmark when you take Derek back because I doubt he remembers exactly when you removed him from, but you'll use a specific time to come back forward.”

 

“Sounds simple enough. What should I do first?”

 

“Close your eyes and envision yourself right before you met Derek in the woods a couple years ago.”

 

Stiles closed his eyes and the memory leapt to the forefront of his mind in mere moments. He smiled involuntarily as he remembered turning around to see Derek standing there, hands in pockets and scruff-less. 

 

“Now Stiles I want you to send your Spark out toward that younger version of you and lock your heartbeats together. Once you have succeeded you have anchored on and you can let go.”

 

The warm tendrils wove out on command and reached back through time. He experienced the journey as if through a giant expanse of liquid smoke, the tendrils poking about in search of the correct timeline. Each prod provoked a sensation in him, every one uniquely his and yet somewhere unfamiliar, as though they had not yet been experienced. 

Eventually the Spark keyed in on the right version and wound its way into his veins. Stiles felt the clean air of the preserve fill his lungs as his younger self searched Scott’s inhaler. Suddenly a gruff voice sounded from behind him and he jumped a bit in fright.

 

“What are you doing here? Huh? This is private property.”

 

"Uh, sorry, man, we didn't know." His voice was higher and he felt his heart racing at the encounter with Derek. He was younger for sure, and didn’t have any scruff which only intensified the effect, but he was still mostly the Derek that Stiles knew. It was easy to identify which of the emotions pumping through his body belonged to his younger self and which were his own, stimulated by seeing Derek again after so long. 

 

Back then he had feared Derek but also knew an inexplicably great deal about him despite never having encountered or heard about him. His father had been in the depths of depression and alcohol abuse at the time of the Hale fire, so when he wasn’t shuttering up his pain in the Sheriff’s office he was drinking it away at home. Stiles may have learned how to get classified information out of his dad since then, but at the time he had been so caught up with out of control ADHD, panic attacks, and feeding himself that he hadn’t paid much attention to the happenings of Beacon Hills. Despite that, Stiles could feel the knowledge of Derek surging within his past self upon seeing the werewolf. The shock of it severed the connection and he felt his consciousness return to his present body.

 

“I knew you!” He gasped as he caught his breath where Derek had let him down into the chair. “I had forgotten, but somehow I knew all about you when I first met you, even though we’d never seen each other.”

 

“You must have remembered stuff from the newspapers without realizing it.” Derek offered. “Laura and I were all over the news for a long time after that, with the lawsuit and all.”

 

Stiles shook his head, dumbfounded by how he could possibly know something so huge about an entire family from his town seemingly without a source. 

 

“I don’t know. It seems odd. Did I do okay though, Fei?”

 

The corners of her lips turned up in a pleased smile and she nodded. “You were only gone for about ten minutes. I’m quite impressed. Tomorrow we’ll see about having you actually make a leap.”

 

“To-tomorrow?” Stiles asked in shock. It seemed so soon to finally be working on the last step of the plan to send Derek back and suddenly he wasn’t sure he was ready for it. “Already?”

 

Fei turned concerned eyes in his direction and thinned her lips in a sympathetic expression. “You might be starting the process tomorrow but time travel is no simple matter. It’s going to take you a lot of practice before you’ll be capable of taking another person with you.”

 

Stiles breathed out loudly, not having realized he’d held it in wait of Fei’s reply. “Okay… Good to know.” He added on as an afterthought, not wanting Fei to recognize his relief, though she probably already had. 

 

“What was it like?” Derek asked. “Looking for your past self.” 

 

“It was weird, really. I expected to just sort of be able to pick a direction and go, but it was all around me, like this big wide open space with infinite choices. Nothing was fully formed either. Anywhere I looked only kind of existed but it was like smoke.”

 

“Time is a fascinating thing.” Fei answered. “I think you’re only going to see that more and more strongly, the farther along we progress.”

 

Stiles dropped Derek off at Deaton’s after the lesson, and realized as he pulled up that it was the first time he had ever seen the vet’s house. It was a small cottage style house with an expansive front yard closed off by a fence behind which sat two massive dogs. They waited patiently at the gate, but began bounding about happily when Derek stepped from the car. 

 

Feeling compelled to see him to the door, Stiles followed and was promptly laid flat by one of the giant dogs tackling him to the ground and proceeding to lick his face. Derek laughed as Stiles spluttered, trying to keep the dog’s tongue out of his mouth, but eventually called the dog off.

 

“Come here, Gomer. Come here.” The dog leapt off, pushing uncomfortably off Stiles’s stomach and went to nuzzle its head against Derek’s neck.

 

“Gomer?” Stiles said incredulously as he stood and attempted to brush the malamute fur off his clothes. “Deaton has a dog named Gomer? I would’ve pegged him for more mysterious names.” 

 

“Deaton’s not really like that. He’s only weird about emissary business because they’re only allowed to share very specific information.”

 

“Huh. Alright then, who’s this?” Stiles asked, pointing at the other dog.

 

“Gumbo.” Derek answered, laughter in his voice. 

 

Stiles shook his head in resignation. “That man will never make sense to me.”

 

They headed toward the house but stopped in front of the door.

 

“Mind if I come over later?” Derek asked shyly.

 

“Of course not. We have to get you to watch some more Hulk before-” He stopped speaking and cleared his throat. Two days ago he’d wanted to get Derek sent back as soon as he could, but now the thought was heartbreaking. “Just give me time to finish my homework okay? Two hours or so should be good.”

 

Derek grasped his hand suddenly, and Stiles felt his heartbeat spike. “I have to go back eventually, Stiles. We can’t change that.”

 

Stiles raised his head to meet Derek’s eye for the first time and found the same regret mirrored there.

 

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered, anticipation and anxiety rising in his chest the moment the words were out and he couldn’t take them back. Derek’s grip on his hand tightened as the corners of his lips curved up and he nodded.

 

Leaning his head down slightly to match the werewolf’s height, Stiles gaze fluctuated between Derek’s pale green eyes and his lips. He reflexively moistened his own lips as he became aware of Derek’s and then they met. It was a chaste, soft kiss that contained no heat or tension, only typical boyish nerves and excitement. Stiles felt his blood pounding in his ears and he tightened his hold on Derek’s hand, not wanting to let go until he had memorized the moment forever. 

 

In time, Derek separated from Stiles but continued to smile up at him shyly. 

 

“Can we do that again later?” He asked.

 

Stiles just nodded, a dumb smile stuck on his cheeks before he turned back towards the Jeep. 

 

“Bring lots of snacks!” He called as he reached the car, turning back to see a pink cheeked Derek laughing faintly at him. 

 

Homework was no easy task for him as the kiss and feel of Derek’s lips played on a loop in his mind, but he managed to get the important stuff done before Derek slipped through his window. 

 

“Hi.” He said softly, leaning against the window sill as he dropped a bag to the floor. 

 

“Hi.” Stiles returned from where he sat, closing his book quickly in his nervousness as he looked up at Derek.

 

“Were you not done yet? I can wait.”

 

“No, it’s okay. Come on.” Stiles indicated the bed as he grabbed his laptop and slid under the blankets. “I’ve had it loading so we wouldn’t have to wait for it to start.”

 

Derek cuddled up next to him and Stiles pressed play before letting his body sag happily against him. The first bit of the movie passed as they munched on snacks and were simply happy in each other’s company but when the doomed sex scene began Stiles grew more and more uncomfortable until he stabbed the pause button and burst, “I don’t want to have sex!”

 

He turned awkwardly up to face Derek who simply stared back down at him with a cocked eyebrow. 

 

“What?” Stiles asked, growing increasingly anxious.

 

“I didn’t think we were going to.”

 

Stiles blinked rapidly a few times. “You didn’t?”   
  


“Of course not. I figured that would be pretty weird if we had sex but then you wiped my memory and had to deal with knowing you had sex with Derek way before you ever actually get to have sex with Derek that he’ll remember.” 

 

A relieved grin broke across Stiles’s face and he collapsed back against the werewolf, newly relaxed. 

 

“Oh thank God. I wasn’t sure how I was going to explain that to you.” Stiles paused before deciding to add to that. “My relationship with the present Derek is clearly very different than what we have. I feel like you and I could very easily be comfortable having sex, but Derek and I never even acknowledged if we had feelings for each other. If we were to do that, and don’t take this the wrong way, I would feel like I was betraying whatever path he and I are supposed to take by taking the easy way with you.”

 

Derek’s crinkled in an understanding smile. “I get it, Stiles. If anyone gets it, I do.”

 

It was the first Derek had really spoken of Kate since he’d arrived and Stiles felt he couldn’t in good conscience let it go ignored. Derek might not remember when Stiles took him back, but if he ever got the memory back, Stiles wanted him to know what he truly thought of Kate, especially after all the harsh jokes he’d cracked in their past.

 

“You know that what Kate did wasn’t your fault, right?”

 

Derek screwed his eyes shut and grimaced. “Of course it’s my fault. She wouldn’t have gotten in if I hadn’t fallen for her.”

 

“No, Derek. Kate was disturbed and bent on destroying your family. She preyed on you because you were vulnerable after Paige died and if she hadn’t been able to get access through you, she would have found another way. Kate used you and you can’t be blamed. She lit that fire intentionally so that you would survive and feel the pain of what she did and if that doesn’t make her the true monster, than I don’t know what does.”

 

Neither of them, though for entirely different reasons, had apparently expected such a speech. Derek appeared in awe that Stiles could view him as so worthy of forgiveness while Stiles seemed startled that such sincerity had come from him. 

 

“Do you mean that?” 

 

Stiles sat up and looked directly at Derek. “I mean that.” He took a moment to think on something before deciding it was worse it. “I need to tell you something about Kate and her father.”

 

Derek tucked his knees under his chin as he listened to Stiles tell him the story of Kate, Gerard, and their manipulation of Allison.

 

“You weren’t the only one members of that family used and abused for selfish and horrible reasons. Allison almost did some truly horrific things under Kate and Gerard’s deception and she was one of the best people I’ve ever known. And you-” he paused, an embarrassed flush spreading over his cheeks before he decided to plunge forth, “you are the best person I’ve ever known.”

 

A small, surprised sound fell out of Derek’s lips as he stared wide eyed back at Stiles. 

 

“That wasn’t a lie?” He asked quietly before answering his own question as his face brightened. “That wasn’t a lie.” Stiles shook his head with a soft grin. “You need to tell your Derek, you know?

 

Stiles’s grin faded and his head fell. “No, I don’t.”

 

“Stiles. I’m happy you like me, but I’m not here forever and I don’t want to go back thinking you’ve given up on who I become.”

 

“I’ll deal with it. Somehow.” Stiles grit out, suddenly wishing the conversation hadn’t taken this turn. He closed his laptop and slid down into the bed. “Let’s just go to sleep.” 

 

Derek sighed but slid down into the bed beside him and Stiles wrapped an arm around his waist. 

 

“Your dad won’t mind?” Derek asked.

 

Stiles shook his head into the back of Derek’s neck, messing the short hair there with his nose. “He won’t mind.”

 

The next day at lesson Fei announced he was actually going to try making the jump. 

 

“Woah. Really?” 

 

“Really.” She nodded her head so sharply the dangling chains she wore as earrings swung almost to her cheeks. “What we’re going to do is have you practice in manner as consistent with what you'll being doing with Derek as possible. Now listen closely.”

 

She proceeded to tell Stiles he was going to leave the room for a few minutes and then focus on himself at the time just after he'd left the back room. Using himself as the proper time mark, he was to use Derek's location to take himself to the right place- the back room. Doing the process this way would help him learn to avoid doubling up on either himself or Derek in one time and place.

 

“Why do you want me to wait out in the lobby for so long?” Stiles asked when she’d finished explaining. 

 

“I have no clue how much this process is going to take out of you and I want you to have time to recover enough to make the jump back to the future. If you don’t manage to jump forward in enough time, your past self will also eventually make the jump and you might run into one another, which would be bad.”

 

Stiles stared at her for a moment, blinking rapidly. “Excuse me, what? You lost me there.”

 

Fei took a deep breath and scrunched her face up in frustrated indecision. “I don’t know how to explain this to you because I don’t actually know how time works, but it doesn’t work the way you think. At any given moment you are living in a time that a version of you has potentially already lived. Events that occur in your life are potentially constantly evolving and changing from one version to the next depending on tiny variables that change between each rendition. You are the current you, and soon you will make the jump to the past. However, in that past, there is also a version of you who will be in the lobby also waiting to make his jump to the past. It is an endless loop of Stiles” she hesitated as she made a face on the pluralization, “-es, just following along with their lives as you already have done or will do. Here, let me try and show you.” 

 

She pulled a pencil and paper from her bag and drew something out before showing it to the two boys.

 

“You can look at it this way. The x-axis is time in some arbitrary units and the y-axis is position. Again, arbitrary. The origin is as you are presently both in time and space, while the positive axes are the future and the negative axes are the past. You are currently here,” she explained as she drew a dark circle at the origin, “but you will be here after you wait in the lobby for about half an hour, and then you will be here once you have made the jump to the past. All changes are in comparison to what your baseline position is, which is why you will still be ‘0’ on the y-axis, but will change along the x-axis to become more positive than you are now, but more negative than you will be, because you have yet to leave the room.”

 

 

Stiles and Derek stared at the small graph, exchanged looks with one another, and then looked up at Fei.

 

“I have to admit, the graph does help. But the origin is always changing right?” Derek asked. “Like you could have drawn this is respect to where Stiles will be right before he makes the jump right?”

 

“Yes, I could have, but I don’t believe the generic shape of the lines would change. More complex timeline shifting might look different, but I’m not an expert on time so I can’t really say.”

 

“Huh. This is definitely going to occupy large areas of my brain for far longer than I would like it to.” Stiles murmured to himself. “Alright, so you want me to go wait in the lobby for like half an hour and then, what? Pop back in here at the time right after I left the room and then pop to the future right after I left for the past?”

 

“Precisely. But let’s make it 45 minutes. Just to give yourself plenty of time to recover if you need it. Your control is getting much better so I don’t think you will, but it’s a smart precaution. Do you have homework you can do while you wait?”

 

Stiles scoffed sarcastically. “I’m a high school senior, I always have homework I can work on.”

 

With that, he grabbed his backpack, gave Derek’s fingers a small squeeze for confidence, and went to wait in the lobby. He set a timer for 45 minutes and raced through his math assignment. The adrenaline and excitement of the looming time travel surprisingly gave an edge to his focus and he succeeded in finishing the work on time.

 

When the time had elapsed he closed his eyes, and focused to the time right as he exited the back room door. Finding himself in the moment wasn’t difficult after the practice he’d had with a much farther search the day before but extending that search to Derek in the exact same moment was difficult. Eventually he managed to communicate with his Spark of 45 minutes past and ask it to reach out for Derek’s Spark. The process worked and he latched onto the werewolf with the fervor of someone trying to grasp falling water. Actually moving himself proved to be the least complex aspect of the process and before long he found himself once more in the back room 45 minutes before. 

 

“Woah!” Derek exclaimed when he popped into view. “That’s you? From the future?”

 

“I guess so.” Stiles responded after looking at the wall clock and confirming that he had indeed brought himself back almost exactly 45 minutes into the past. 

 

Fei nodded approvingly. “I’m impressed. You don’t even seem tired.”   
  


“I don’t feel tired. Now where do you want me to return to in the future?”

 

She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I would say I’d like you to return a few minutes after you left, but you need to get your precision perfect, so I want you to return to the chair at exactly the moment you disappeared. If anyone were to be looking at you, I don’t want them to be able to notice you’d gone at all.”

 

“No pressure.” Stiles breathed out. “Alright, here goes nothing.”

 

Looking forward to the time exactly when he had left by using Derek as a timepiece was incredibly difficult- markedly more so than using him as a positioning beacon. Eventually he managed to lock on however, and was astounded by just how sure he was that it was the right time. Suddenly, as if without more than the force of a mere whim he was sitting in the lobby chair again, elbows on his books. 

 

He looked around for a moment, patted his body as though to check he were really there and then pushed his chair away from the table.

 

“It worked!” He said when he entered the back room to find Derek and Fei playing tic-tac-toe. 

 

Fei looked up from the paper. “It did indeed. I wasn't expecting you to be so successful. You might just be about ready to complete the real jump.”

 

Stiles’s heart froze a little at that and his gaze unconsciously shifted to Derek who looked similarly stricken. They had known the time was coming, but neither had expected it to be so soon. 

 

“You'll come tomorrow and we'll figure out the logistics of how it will work so you have a little time to get the plan and process really set. It'll give the Spark time to prepare itself for such a big job.” 

 

“That makes sense.” Stiles replied haltingly. “See you tomorrow.” 

 

The ride dropping Derek off at Deaton's was stiff and quiet. At one point, Derek slipped his fingers between Stiles’s and Stiles squeezed back harder than was probably comfortable. Derek knew the abyss that lay before him and Stiles knew the struggle he was going to face again the moment Derek was no longer in his life. 

 

When Stiles put the Jeep in park at Deaton’s, he turned his head to find Derek staring at their linked hands. “I’ll be over later, yeah?” He asked.

 

“Yeah, definitely.” Stiles’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat to continue. “We’ll have a Marvel marathon or something.”

 

Derek nodded before leaning over the console and pressing a kiss to Stiles’s lips. “See you tonight, then.”

 

Stiles watched after the werewolf as he crossed the lawn with giant dogs in tow, knocked at the front door, and waited until Deaton opened the mountain ash protected door for him. 

 

The drive back came automatically and Stiles couldn’t even remember making the 20 minute trip when he realized he was back home, lying in bed. An abyss of days without Derek stretched before him and his head felt as though it were being crushed by the weight of the loneliness and depression that was likely to come as a result. Fei had said it wasn’t necessary for him to feel that way if he could properly learn to anchor his Spark, but what if he couldn’t? What if Derek never came back and he was forced to live his life vicariously through indirect, magical contact with the werewolf. 

 

Suddenly the bed shifted and an arm was snaking around his waist. 

 

“What's the matter? I could smell you down the block.” Derek whispered.

 

“I don't know how to handle being alone again.” His voice was wooden and small he couldn't recognize himself in it.

 

“Neither do I.” Derek answered back, his breath puffing warmly against Stiles’s ear. “But I don’t want to think about that until I have to. Let’s just watch those movies and forget about it.”

 

Stiles nodded and tipped his head to look at Derek. “Let’s watch those movies.”

 

They moved down to the couch this time, and swaddled themselves in blankets as the first movie loaded on the computer. It felt good to be pressed together, side to side, and Stiles let himself slouch into the contact so he could rest his head in the crook of the shorter boy’s neck. Derek’s arm wound around his waist and Stiles relaxed into the band of warmth wrapped about his body. The Sheriff came home at midnight to find them rolled tightly in their cocoon of blankets and slumped over asleep on the couch.

 

As usual, Derek didn't impose on the Sheriff’s hospitality and left before breakfast. He waited until they were out of sight before pulling Stiles in for a kiss goodbye. It was a little deeper and more lingering than the short-lived ones they had shared before and Stiles melted into it too willingly, despite the screaming inner voice that told him it would be gone soon. Derek smiled slightly when they broke apart before turning for the door.

 

“I'll see you after school.” He called back.

 

After school came all too quickly, and suddenly Stiles realized his time with Derek was coming to a close. He kissed him a little more aggressively than he'd planned on doing all day, but the werewolf met his enthusiasm eagerly.

 

When they separated Stiles spoke, a slight manic edge coloring his voice.

 

“Let's skip class today. Do something fun.”

 

“What? Fei will be so mad, Stiles.”

 

“Yeah but you heard what she said. I'm doing way better than she thought I would. What's the harm in pushing it off a bit?”

 

A smile cracked Derek's lips. “Yeah, okay. I had something I wanted you to show me anyway, if that's okay?”

 

“Anything.”

 

“Will you show me where Derek lived when he was here? I know I won't remember but I just want to smell it and see what he was like here.”

 

Stiles wanted to memorize that tentative smile of Derek's and save it forever as one of the most precious things he might ever see. 

 

“Sure. I'll take you.”

 

They chatted about nothing in particular on the drive to loft but Derek sat straighter as they got close.

 

“No way!” He exclaimed as they drove into the parking lot. “I had a feeling but I didn't want to get my hopes up.”

 

Stiles was confused. “Hopes up for what?”

 

“Laura and I used to play here as kids when Cora was a baby. Laura was coming into her shift and I wasn't allowed to play sports because I didn't know how to control my strength so our parents sent us here so we wouldn't destroy the house.” His eyes opened wide suddenly. “Is the hole still there?”

 

“You made that hole?” 

 

“Laura and I had a competition one time because I bet her I was stronger. I ripped the door off the hinges, but Laura pulled the door frame clear out of the wall. She obviously won.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

 

Stiles led Derek into the loft, slightly dazed at the revelation of it all. Derek wasn't allowed to continue living in his childhood home so he'd chosen the next best thing. He wondered why Cora or Peter had never said anything. 

 

He slid the door open and was reminded by the disheveled blankets on the bed that he hadn't been here since he brought Derek forward. 

 

Young Derek stood hesitantly at the open door and scanned the room thoughtfully. 

 

“He didn't really do much with the place did he?”

 

“He never really got a chance. After he started living here it was just one disaster after another and the place kept getting trashed. It's a miracle it looks decent at all.”

 

Derek wandered around the open space letting his fingers glide over walls and edges, breathing deeply. Occasionally his eyes flashed blue with what Stiles assumed was a particularly strong scent.

 

“He was happy here. Or some definition of happy I suppose. But he was also scared. That's the most recent scent. And he was...human?”

 

“Long story. That was only temporary.”

 

“You're in here a lot.”

 

“Well I lived here for a little while before I brought you forward.”

 

“No. I mean you're engrained in here, way more than the rest of the pack. He let you be here. He let you invade his space.”

 

“I wasn't invasive!” Stiles rebutted.

 

“I don't mean it negatively. You're Derek's anchor. He let you into as many aspects of his life as he could because he needed you there. Neither of you realized what was going on but I can smell it. I can smell your Spark everywhere in here, almost like a security blanket.”

 

Derek explored every inch of the loft, paying paricularly loving attention to the hole in the wall, and Stiles just followed behind and catalogued each of his reactions. The older Derek had never given any noticeable indication of the loft’s personal importance and Stiles didn't want to lose the opportunity to learn about him. 

 

He wasn't sure how long they walked about, but Derek suddenly turned and spoke.

 

“Will you leave me alone for awhile? I want some time to think about this place. I won't remember, but if you ever give me memories back to Derek, I want him to know some things.”

 

“Sure. Just come over when you're ready.”

 

He gave Derek's hand a squeeze then returned to the Jeep. Fei was waiting in his driveway when he pulled up and he cringed at the fury in her face.

 

“What do you think you're doing skipping lesson Stiles?” She asked tensely the moment they were in the safety of the house. 

 

“Relax, Fei! It's just a day.”

 

“I don't know that with you, Stiles. If you lose your focus on the goal, a day could turn into a week or-”

 

“Or what Fei? What is he harm in me keeping him here a while? He's not going to remember! I just want some more time with him.”

 

“But how much time Stiles? Separation isn't exactly your strong suit. I can't give you forever and neither can the present Derek.”

 

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. “What do you mean?”

 

“If you lose sight of your intention to send Derek back to the past, the present Derek will cease to exist and you will permanently alter the timeline.”

 

His eyes widened. “What? Why wouldn't you tell me that?”

 

“Because you don't deal with failure well and I didn't want to give you cause for additional anxiety.”

 

Stiles stood stock still for a few minutes but didn't respond. 

 

“I'm going to go now, but listen to your phone. You should expect a call. I hope to see you tomorrow.”

 

She walked out the front door without another word and Stiles went and collapsed on the sofa where the blankets still lay crumpled from the night before. As promised, his phone rang not long later. Derek.

 

“Hello?” He picked up.

 

“Fei told me to call you.”

 

“So you only call when someone else needs you to?” It was a cheap jab and Derek didn't deserve it.

 

“You hung up on me last time. I figured you needed space.”

 

“I don't need space, Derek! That's the opposite of what I need.” 

 

Derek sighed. “I didn't leave to punish you, Stiles.”

 

Stiles ignored what he knew was true. "Why do I have send him back, Derek?"

 

"You know why, Stiles." 

 

"Do I? I feel like I'm drowning just thinking about sending him back."

 

Derek was quiet on the other line for a while.

 

"You have to send him back."

 

"Why though?"

 

"Because I'll disappear if you don't!"

 

"So what?" He spit out the words before he could process their impact in his mind and his winced at the sharp intake of breath over the receiver.

 

"Stiles..."

 

"Why does it matter if you disappear if I still have him? You're not here anyway." He was pulling the dirt in over his head as he spoke but he couldn't stop the bitterness from pouring forth.

 

"There was nothing there for me, Stiles."

 

"You had me." He whispered back urgently, wishing the words were true but knowing they weren't. He wasn't sure exactly what Derek meant by ‘there for him’ and he wasn't sure what he meant by ‘had me,’ but he knew he hadn't been present for Derek in more ways than one. He'd been with Malia and abandoned Derek and his changes to Braeden who didn't understand him.

 

"No I didn't." Derek didn't sound disappointed, nor did he sound resigned, he was simply stating the facts. 

 

"Come back, Derek." 

 

“I can't yet, Stiles.”

 

“Stop with the cryptic bullshit, Derek! I need you. What do you mean yet?”

 

“I mean I'm getting better and you aren't and I can't yet!” Derek's voice actually rose this time and Stiles caught his breath because he couldn’t remember the last time Derek had yelled at him. 

 

“I’ll get better, Derek.” He answered quietly.

 

“I know you will, Stiles.”

 

They hung up after that and Stiles sat ineffectually at his homework until Derek climbed through the window. Stiles smiled wearily at him and the other boy frowned slightly.

 

“I'm going back tomorrow aren't I?”

  
Stiles nodded. “You're going back tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [thehyacinthgirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thehyacinthgirl) for betaing!
> 
> About the little piece of fanart, I'm still pretty unacquainted with this type of drawing so if you have any suggestions for how I could improve it (or, you know, if you actually think it's pretty!) just let me know in the comments, please!
> 
> Trigger warning: There is suicidal ideation/attempted suicide in this chapter, as well as implied alcohol abuse.

Stiles got the pack together the next day to send Derek off from the clinic. Liam had taken up baking to help manage his anger so he brought a cake decorated with a clock face and the pack teased him mercilessly about how corny it was, but Derek’s face was so fond that Liam hardly paid them any mind.

 

Derek had gone to great pains in order to look and smell approximately how he had when Stiles had pulled him forward. He figured Stiles could manipulate his memories a little extra to conceal any minute differences, which made the Spark incredibly uncomfortable but he kept quiet because he knew there wasn’t much for it. 

 

The process of goodbyes was more sentimental than Stiles had expected given that Derek had spent so little time with everyone. He supposed it made sense, though, given that Derek would feel unconsciously connected to them via knowledge that they were his pack in the future. Werewolf magic still made very little sense to Stiles sometimes. He ate three pieces of Liam’s (admittedly incredibly delicious) cake to store up on energy and then shifted to stand closer to Derek. He knew he would have a little extra time with him back in the past, but time was running out and he wanted as much contact as he could get before it was gone. Derek seemed to feel the same as he shifted backwards to lean against Stiles who snaked his arm around the werewolf’s waist. If anyone thought the intimacy was odd, no one said anything, though Stiles could feel Scott staring at them a little too intensely. 

 

“Alright, Stiles.” Fei spoke once the goodbyes were wearing down. “I know you would have liked to practice carrying Derek on a shorter journey, but there are too many risks with doing it even once. Just remember that your Spark doesn't want anything to go wrong. If it seems to be doing something you aren't asking for, there is a reason and you need to let it.”

 

“Right. Spark take the wheel. Noted.” Stiles said. His anxiety was growing by the minute and his hands were beginning to shake. 

 

A warm hand slipped around his and he looked up to find Derek smiling at him concernedly. “It's going to be okay. You're good at this remember?” 

 

Stiles shot him a wobbly smile but couldn't make words come out. 

 

“You all set?” Derek asked and Stiles nodded. They held hands and Stiles closed his eyes. 

 

His first job was to tie his Spark to Derek's, just as he would seatbelt himself into his car. That process wasn't difficult but then he had to search backwards for the exact moment Derek had left the past. It was a different sensation than looking for the time when he had left the past- as if he were looking for a shadow instead of a body. It kept shifting in his perspective and he struggled to keep the moment locked in his intentions while he searched for his own young self. Something wasn't working right and Stiles could feel it in his bones, except all of a sudden he had the sense he no longer had bones. His grip on Derek felt like it was slipping and he desperately pushed out to complete the jump to his young self. Consequences be damned, he needed to get Derek to the past in one piece, even if it meant two of him being in one place. 

 

“Agh!” Derek's cry sounded and Stiles looked over at the werewolf sprawled uncomfortably on the floor. Stiles must literally have dropped him. He, on the other hand, was sitting nice and tidy on the floor leaning against the wall and holding a comic book with very small hands connected to remarkably hairless arms. 

 

“What the hell?” Derek asked as he slid down the wall directly adjacent the corner where Stiles was sitting. Stiles looked down his tiny body in horror, all the way to the stumpy legs that he stretched out over Derek's lap to examine. “You were so cute!” Derek exclaimed, partially in jest partially in total genuine glee.

 

Stiles glared. “Was?”

 

Derek looked sheepish. “Well you know, you kind of got hot.” The confession sent pink up Stiles’s youthfully pudgy cheeks. They hadn't quite lost their baby fat yet. 

 

“But what happened?” Derek asked, concern reaching back into his tone.

 

“I don't know. Something felt wrong while I was jumping back with you. I think I was taking too long and you were starting to slip away, so I just made my Spark send us here and figured it would deal with it.”

 

“So is baby Stiles in there anywhere?” Derek poked Stiles’s buzz cut for emphasis. 

 

“If definitely feels like it. I think I have all the information he had at this time. Like I know my dad is on his third shift and will be gone all night. That's convenient.” Stiles sighed. “If anyone asks I can say I was sleepwalking. Everyone in the town knows I have some issues. You'll have to climb out the window though.” 

 

“I can handle that.” Something worrisome seemed to occur to him. “How're we going I explain the difference in time though. It's going to take time to get back to the house and take my memories. I may have not been quite in my normal senses but I think I’ll notice if I lose half an hour.”

 

Stiles thought about it a moment. “I think I can convince you that you fell asleep. That shouldn't be too hard.” 

 

Derek nodded but didn't respond, seemingly distracted by Stiles’s ten-year-old room. “It hasn't changed much.” He observed.

 

“Yeah well, once a geek always a geek.” Stiles took a moment anyway to observe the old room. Most of the decor hadn't changed, but some had. He still had the R2-D2 and C-3PO comforter on his bed and the poster of Princess Leia in her battle fatigues on his wall. Star Wars was still his favorite movie series in the world, but he was glad he's chosen to tone down the fanaticism of it before high school. 

 

“We should get going.” Derek said wistfully, knowing Stiles wanted to remember this but not willing to risk more time passing. “I’ll meet you across the street in the park in ten minutes or so.” Stiles nodded confirmation. 

 

The rendezvous went off successfully and Stiles climbed onto Derek's back for a piggyback to the Hale house.

 

“I guess we're lucky you're so small. If you'd come back as your normal sense the trip would have taken a lot longer.” The werewolf said as he adjusted Stiles’s positioning and held tightly to the backs of his legs.

 

Stiles let the sensation of rushing air distract him from their impending separation. He had never experienced moving at werewolf speed and though he still had no desire to be one, he had to admit it was a little fun. 

 

“Why would you ever go human speed if you can do that all the time?” He asked when they arrived at the house and Derek let him down. The trip had only taken about ten minutes, when even by bike it usually took Stiles twenty. “It's awesome.”

 

Derek shrugged nonchalantly. “When it's what you can do since birth there isn't much novelty. I prefer the times I have to walk with you because I get to slow down.”

 

At the mention of being together, they both looked up at the daunting house. It no longer smoked, but the smell was much stronger than when Stiles had first encountered it, and even that was almost overwhelming.

 

“Why do you come here?” Stiles wondered, suddenly realizing Derek didn't actually live in the house when Laura was still alive. 

 

The werewolf swallowed so thickly even Stiles could hear it. “I come here to drink. The smell of smoke is thick enough when I come back that Laura can't smell the wolfsbane or alcohol.” He spoke of it so casually tears rose in Stiles’s eyes for him. “I sleep it off at the house so I'm not drunk when I come home and as far as I know she just thinks I hang out here. If she does know, she doesn't say anything.”

 

“Derek.” Stiles tried to speak but his voice came out broken, so he tried again. “Derek that's not healthy.”

 

The wolf stared over at him resolutely. “Nothing about me is healthy.” 

 

Though Stiles had gradually learned more and more about Derek and his past, he still kept a great deal to himself. Even this younger version of Derek who was much less reticent than the present one had apparently chosen not to disclose various aspects of his life. It upset Stiles, not because Derek kept things from him, but because he hadn’t made himself available to be confided in and he realized more completely what Derek had meant by he wasn’t better yet. When he was living in his worst time, he had been self-destructive and possibly alcoholic, and now Stiles was following a similar path towards self-destruction. As much as Derek wanted to be with him, he couldn’t because they had too many common vices. 

 

Stiles slipped his tiny hand into Derek's large one and gave as much of a comforting squeeze as he could manage. A few minutes from now Derek would again only know the pain and guilt of destroying his family and Stiles would be responsible. Derek would have to live another six or seven years burdened by self-hate before life would finally give him a chance to begin healing.

 

“Let's go.” Derek said softly, pulling at Stiles’s hand gently.

 

Stiles’s senses were overwhelmed the moment he stepped into the broken house, but he did his best to not react, not wanting to wound Derek more deeply. The stairs creaked beneath their steps and as Stiles looked about he realized the house was vaguely different from how he remembered. It occurred to him that Derek must actually have done some renovations to the house, or cleaned it thoroughly at the very least. Having the place decimated by the county must have been devastating.

 

The bedroom was exactly as Stiles had seen in his dream, down to the almost empty bottle of wolfsbane liquor and he realized his Spark must very literally have sent his mind back to find Derek during that hypnosis session. In that moment he understood that it hadn't chosen this version of Derek for convenience, but out of necessity.

 

“You were trying to kill yourself.” Fell off his lips quietly before he could stop it and Derek tensed beside him.

 

“Yes.” 

 

“That's why my Spark brought you forward. The connection would never be made if you died.”

 

“But that must mean you've stopped me before, if you have the Spark now.”

 

“Well Fei did say time isn't linear. Maybe some version of you didn't end up dying and lived long enough to meet me and that's what started this loop.”

 

They marvelled for a couple moments over that thought, wondering how many times had they met one another over and over again. How different was each encounter? Were the differences minute or massive? 

 

“I guess we should get going, then.” Derek spoke hesitantly, regretfully. He folded down onto the ground beside the bottle where he remembered being, letting his hand grip the bottle loosely as though he'd fallen asleep over it. Stiles looked at it thoughtfully before placing his hand over the mouth and letting his Spark drift through the liquid, nullifying the remaining wolfsbane so it would no longer be toxic if Derek continued drinking from it.

 

Settling in front of Derek, their separation settled into the pit of his stomach in its inevitability. “I'm going to miss you.”

 

“I will too.” Derek whispered.

 

“No you won't.” Stiles already felt terrible about putting Derek back in this place. He didn't want to feel worse thinking that somehow the werewolf might still manage to miss him.

 

“Part of me will. Part of me will know and keep looking for you, even if I don't realize it.” He sounded so sure, Stiles decided not to argue. “I wish I could kiss you goodbye.”

 

Stiles giggled, even though it seemed inappropriate for the occasion. It would be pretty weird kissing Derek in his current state. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed a small, soft kiss to the werewolf’s cheek. Without warning, an inexplicable warmth filled the air around them, just for a moment, before it was gone.

 

“What was that?” Derek asked. “Did you do it?”

 

“No.” Stiles exclaimed. “I think that was the Spark bond forming.”

 

“How is that possible? It already exists.”

 

“Not in these bodies. Not in mine anyway. My consciousness may be in here, but so is past Stiles. And technically I wasn't bonded to you, I just connected to you through the adult Derek.”

 

“I suppose that makes sense.” Derek's face lit up then. “That explains so many things! Like why we don't remember it forming. You're going to erase the memory of it.”

 

“And it explains why I have so many issues after this. It's about when the panic attacks got really bad and maybe why I was such a weak kid. I also started getting better at lacrosse about the time I started getting along better with the future Derek. The Spark must have been taking my strength or something.”

 

“Huh. Time is weird.” Was all Derek could say before frowning up at Stiles. “I suppose you should start.” 

 

Incredible nostalgia flooded Stiles in that second and he felt he couldn't breathe at the force of it. “I suppose I should.”

 

He reached out his small, child’s hand and placed it over Derek's heart, his Spark instantly connecting without effort. Stiles focused intently on the span of time Derek had been in contact with him, from the very beginning to this exact moment. He wrapped the memories carefully in his web of Sparks drawing them slowly into himself but careful to hold the barrier true. These experiences weren't for him to know, and he wasn't sure he could look Derek in the eye ever again if he didn't do everything in his power to keep the memories private. It was much easier than he anticipated and then he convinced Derek to fall asleep. The older boy’s head lolled to the side and he knew he'd succeeded but the Spark wouldn't release him just yet. Stiles felt it reaching into Derek's heart and mind, infusing him with a sense of purpose, a future, and the connection told him it was exactly the feeling Derek needed to keep pushing forward. He knew the werewolf wouldn't know what his purpose was or who is was leading him to, but it would happen, just as it did in every version of time, and someday he would be happy.

 

As a final precaution before the sleep trance wore off, Stiles willed his scent in the house to disappear. Were they not bonded, the pungent smoke of the burnt wood might cover his scent, but Derek always said how strongly Stiles smelled to him and the Spark didn't want to risk it.

 

Leaving the house felt as though Stiles was ripping a hole in his young chest and tears ran down his cheeks the entire wall back to his house. Back home, he pressed his face into his pillow and gasped in large breaths, trying to clear the burning smell from his nose. Sobs racked his body and he knew logically that Derek was fine, that somewhere in the future Derek was waiting for Stiles to heal enough that they could see each other again, but he didn't know when that would happen and how long he would have to continue holding himself together alone.

 

He eventually calmed himself enough to focus on his task of getting back to the future. Inside him he could feel past-Stiles itching to resurface and knew that extracting the memories would be difficult because they were technically in his past self’s brain. He wasn't sure he knew how to take the memories with him spiritually, given that he’d barely hung onto Derek's physical self on the jump back. Instead of risking losing the memories to the void altogether, Stiles did the next most risky option in his mind and wrapped both Derek's memories and the memories of Derek in a package of Spark so tight and complex he felt sure his past self wouldn't be able to feel it. Just in case, though, he willed a password protection into the safe-like casing with a code only his current self could know. 

 

Despite the massive precautions he put over the memories, Stiles allowed one key piece of information to remain free of the barriers. It was simply a face, name, and event that years from now he would inexplicably call forth in the face of a very grumpy werewolf he had supposedly never met before.

 

When he started looking forward to the future he felt a small tendril connecting his mind to his body and realized that what had happened was significantly more dangerous than he had realized. The tendril was keeping his soul connected to his body but it wasn't alive anymore. As he travelled forward, leaving his young body behind, Stiles could feel the compressions of Deaton's hands on his chest interspersed by breaths of warm air shoved into his lungs by Scott. 

 

His body was cold when he re-entered and it made his spirit feel physically ill breaching the slowly dying flesh. Stiles felt his lungs draw a breath of their own as he came back to himself, but he couldn't speak or move yet, left to suffer Deaton's aggressive CPR until Malia spoke up.

 

“Stop! I hear his heartbeat. He’s back.”

 

Stiles listened as a collective sigh of palpable relief filled the room. He lifted his eyelids with difficulty to find Lydia and Fei staring down at him, but still couldn't manage saying anything.

 

“Stiles, are you okay?” Fei asked dubiously. Stiles did his best impression of a nod. “Can you talk?” Head shake. “Alright, we're going to lift you up onto the table so you're a little more comfortable, okay?” When he assented, Scott scooped him up and placed him gently down on the metallic table where a pillow was slid under his head. It still wasn't really comfortable, but at least he was more at the level of his friends. He flexed his hands as feeling came back into his body and he mimed writing with a pencil. Lydia understood first and drew a pen and pad of paper from her purse.

 

‘I think I'm okay. Feel okay. What happened?’ His writing was messy and uncoordinated, but legible. 

 

Lydia looked hesitant to speak, but Fei answered in her usual blunt manner.

 

“You died. For about half an hour.”

 

Stiles already knew he had died in some capacity but to hear he had messed up his timing by so long was shocking.

 

“Derek called.” Scott offered shyly. “He said he could feel it happen. You should call him once you can talk.”

 

Knowing Derek had felt his death seemed to shock Stiles further into recovery and his heart took off rapidly.

 

“Derek?” He croaked, his voice rough and quiet. “Phone?”

 

Lydia indicated his pocket. He rummaged in his pocket until he got the requested item and clicked through to his recent calls where Derek was still near the top of the list. It only rang once before being answered.

 

“Stiles?” Derek's voice was hoarse and panicked.

 

“I'm okay, Sourwolf.”

 

“You were just gone. You were dead.”

 

“I'm sorry.” It sounded lame but Stiles couldn't think of anything else. “It didn't work the way it was supposed to, but I got you back. I’m sorry I scared you.” He said it again partially to put Derek more at ease, and partially because he realized it was something he could say. Derek had been genuinely terrified thinking he’d lost Stiles and the boy didn’t want to do that to him ever again. 

 

“And you're sure you're okay?”

 

“I think so. I'm sure they're all about to make me go see Melissa anyway.” Derek chuckled. “I have your memories, by the way, from all this. If you ever want them.”

 

Derek didn't respond for a while, and Stiles worried that he'd brought it up too soon. After all, as far as Stiles knew, Derek had very little idea of how close his past self had gotten to the boy. Maybe Derek didn't want to know the whole story. Maybe he would rather that stay between Stiles and who he used to be. 

 

“I'd like to have them back. When we see each other again, alright?” Derek's voice soothed his turbulent thoughts and Stiles breathed easier. 

 

“Alright.” Stiles didn't say anything else but he sat on the line, eyes closed, once again just listening to Derek's even breaths over the receiver. Just a month ago Stiles would never have thought that such basic contact could make him feel so content and whole, but now he just lay on the table and listened, forgetting his surroundings. 

 

“You should go see Melissa now.” Derek spoke softly after a while, his voice hesitant and shy, as though he'd been experiencing the same soothing wholeness as Stiles and was reluctant to ruin it.

 

Stiles opened his eyes slowly to find that several members of the pack had vacated the clinic and only Scott, Lydia, and Fei remained awkwardly leaning against various walls.

 

“Yeah.” He replied thickly to the werewolf. “I probably should.

 

“Stiles!” He heard Derek's voice just as he was about to end the call.

 

“Yeah, Derek?”

  
“I'm patient,” was all Derek said, and this time around Stiles knew exactly what he meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


	8. Prologue: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [thehyacinthgirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thehyacinthgirl) for betaing!

“You're sure about this?” The Sheriff asked one more time just as Stiles was about to seal the envelope delineating his intent to take a gap year before enrolling.

 

“I'm sure, Dad.”

 

It was April and the pack had all made their respective college decisions. Scott had made it into UC-Davis, Kira into Berkeley, Lydia would be going to MIT, and Malia had chosen against college, instead deciding to pursue a license as a park ranger. Stiles had almost accepted his spot at Tufts but eventually decided against going straight in. He'd been promised his scholarship would be saved for a year and so decided to take some time to learn about himself.

 

When graduation passed and he had his gold cord and diploma, Stiles packed up the Jeep and drove up north to a small town outside Ojai, where Fei lived. He'd found a job with a moving company, and spent his days 9-5 packing and hauling heavy boxes around Northern California. The manual labor was methodical and relaxing, giving his mind and body something to do as he struggled to learn control of his Spark outside of Derek's presence. One of Fei’s pack was a therapist who agreed to see him at a reduced rate and he met with her twice a week on the days Fei gave him a break.

 

Melinda had him write a daily journal talking about his nightmares, anxieties, and struggles with controlling his Spark. She asked him to keep track of his triggers and his coping mechanisms. He wrote what best helped him re-anchor after losing control and how he was learning how to make friends with some of his coworkers, even though none of them knew about the supernatural.

 

That was hardest for him at first, learning to trust these strangers with his friendship. He couldn’t tell them the truth about his nightmares and panic attacks, but as the months passed he developed a quiet friendship with a few of the older men at the company. Occasionally they would share war stories over lunch, literal or personal, and Stiles didn't contribute at first, but as he saw how open they were to any kind of struggle he found ways to tell what he'd been through without revealing the magic of it.

 

He wasn't sure if telling these stories led to the development of his journal or the other way round, but the therapy journal morphed naturally into an entity Stiles hadn't intended but rapidly embraced. His journey with Derek wove so thoroughly throughout the pages that soon Stiles wasn't sure if it was a story about the pack or a story about Derek. He realized it mattered very little and gradually the evolution of their bond tied more and more tightly into the book, until Stiles found he'd written almost as much a love story as an adventure story.

 

Ojai was peaceful. There was no Nemeton and Fei’s alpha was old and experienced. Creatures did not attack there and Stiles found for once that the muscles he was developing were not from running for his life but from earning a living. He kept his small apartment with a simple kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom clean and as organized as his perpetually messy mind could manage.

 

Living alone wasn't as lonely as Stiles had imagined it would be, but he did find himself regularly holding his finger over Derek's number, despite promising he wouldn't call. When those times arose, he turned to his book, writing until the loneliness had passed and he could sleep without too many nightmares.

 

The first draft was almost done by mid-May. He was struggling to finish, partially out of nostalgia and partially out of fear. Lydia challenged him to pretend the book was a final and he needed to finish by the time she was done with her MIT finals. Her dry encouragement forced him to completion and he took the as of yet unnamed novel to the local printer to be bound.

 

Packaging the thick document with a note safely tucked beneath was difficult. His hands shook as he wrote the address he had long since memorized and he ripped the tape off the box several times before the postal worker gave such a sigh Stiles forced himself to finally leave it and place the box on the scale. Whatever would happen next was no longer his decision.

 

Second Time Around: Prologue

 

Some people believe the notion of a soulmate is ridiculous and some believe they will know their soulmate from the start. This is a story about how the start is a highly subjective matter and sometimes it takes several times around to figure out what you had the whole time.

 

_Dear Derek,_

_I can't write an epilogue because it would be silly to write an ending for a story I claim has no real beginning. Maybe I'll write a ‘Prologue Part 2,’ but I can't write that yet either, and I won't try to publish this until I can._

 

_I think I'm better. I’m never going to be 100% but there are just some parts of me I can't get back and I'm okay with that now. The nightmares still come, but they aren't so often and they are Spark free. This is the first manuscript and you're the first to read it (assuming you made it the entire way through), mistakes and all. I thought about giving you the memories back before letting you read it, but this was the most genuine way I could think to show how I've healed. This began in high school as a basic recording of events, but I started seeing a supernatural friendly therapist who suggested I write a journal and this is what it became._

 

_Lastly, I know we never talked about what our bond means, and I'm sorry if this is not what you thought we were, but I had to write honestly about it all or else defeat the purpose. I unpackaged this thing three times before finally getting it in the mail because I was scared of what you'd feel when you read it, but I don't have room in me anymore to push you away because I'm not willing to accept change. I hope I can give you you're memories back soon._

 

_Love,_

_Stiles_

 

_P.S. If you've read all this, I hope at some point you realized just how first draft this thing is and the book nerd part of you picked up a red pen. Don't forget I know you went to Columbia for English._

 

_P.S.S. If you come, bring a puppy._

 

_P.S.S.S. I got accepted at Tufts with a Merit Scholarship in English so that's where I'll be starting in September. Lydia's at MIT but everyone else is still in California, so I guess I've gotten over that fear a bit. Roscoe finally gave up the ghost, so Dad and I haven't figured out how to get me out there yet, but it'll happen._

 

_Alright that's it_.

 

The anxiety of waiting for Derek to respond was tempered by the process of moving back home for the summer before school would start. Stiles tried packing haphazardly to get home a few days early but his newly semi-organized mind wouldn't allow it and he ended up more or less organizing his belongings into categories and nicely loaded boxes.

 

Losing Roscoe had made life more difficult but he had managed to convince Chris to drive him home in his SUV. They had never been close but an easy silence fell between them as Chris turned on a rock station and they curved along the interstate. The sheriff met him in the driveway and hugged him tight as soon as Stiles stepped out the door.

 

“Good to see you, kid.”

 

“Good to see you too, dad.”

 

Unpacking much seemed like a moot point since he'd be going off to school soon enough, so he unpacked the things he needed and moved the rest to the basement.

 

He was sitting in the kitchen working at his draft one day, reading through it and fixing typos and grammar errors where he found them when abruptly the air in the house seemed to change. Stiles looked up to footsteps at the kitchen entryway and his mouth fell open in shock.

 

Derek stood there, leaning slightly against the door frame and looking down on Stiles where he sat at the table. Whereas Stiles felt he'd aged like a president in office, time for Derek seemed to have reversed and he looked younger almost than he had when they had met (the second time). His green eyes were brighter and more vivid, the skin beneath them no longer ragged and purple. He wore a new black leather jacket, free of blood stains and combat tears, over a soft-looking purple Henley paired with faded blue jeans over the old black boots Stiles recognized well from ages of running for their lives together. Now he got to see them in a happier context.

 

The most truly different thing about Derek was his beard. It wasn't a full-grown woodsman type beard, but it was thicker and more full-bodied than the scruff he'd sported when he'd left. It gave his sharp bone structure a softer appearance that suited the new brightness in his eyes.

 

“You're here.” Stiles whispered, as if to himself rather than Derek. “You have a beard.”

 

He almost fell off his chair when Derek dipped his head and smiled. It wasn't his cocky, you're ridiculous smile, though. It was bashful, as though somehow Stiles’s attention made him shy now. The thought of Derek being shy sent Stiles’s brain in many directions it shouldn't when they were finally reuniting after more than two years.

 

“You have muscles.” Derek returned, reeling his mind back to the immediate moment but simultaneously adding fuel to the fire because Derek was focusing on his body.

 

“Getting through puberty will do that.” Stiles returned weakly. He sat there staring for a few seconds longer before standing abruptly and crashing into Derek and holding him close. Stiles clung tightly around Derek's neck as the werewolf wrapped his huge arms with equal force around Stiles’s back. They held each other for some indeterminate amount of time before Stiles couldn't keep himself from speaking any longer.

 

“So you read it?”

 

“I read it.” Derek’s voice was muffled from where his mouth was partially buried in Stiles’s flannel.

 

“And you're still here?”

 

Derek pulled away slightly to look Stiles in the face. For possibly the first time in the human’s experience, Derek's expression was of complete, unclouded affection and it made him shiver.

 

“I'm here. For everything you wrote about. We've already been given two times around in some bizarre time loop to try and get it right and I don't want to miss the third.”

 

Stiles brightened at Derek's openness and he let himself smile widely. “Well, you know what my dad says. One’s an incident, two’s a coincidence-”

 

“And three’s a pattern.” Derek finished.

 

“I know you said I needed to learn how to live without you, and I did, but this bond isn't an accident. We've been tied together since the moment we met in some different version of the past, and time just keeps evolving to push us closer and closer together.” Stiles was having difficulty saying exactly what he wanted, despite having written his every feeling into the pages of a book.

 

“Say what you want, Stiles.” There it was again. The same grounding quality unique to Derek that always managed to pull Stiles back to logic and order.

 

“I want you to stay Derek. Or I guess, I want you to go with me. To Boston.” He anticipated Derek telling him no, telling him he should experience college in all its successes and failures on his own for a while. Instead Derek simply smiled and reached a hand into his pocket to pull out a key.

 

“I already rented an apartment out there, right near campus. That's why I took so long to get here after you sent the manuscript.” Dumbfounded, Stiles stared at the key for several seconds before Derek spoke again. “You should live in the dorms for a year or two though. Everyone needs a good dorm experience.”

 

“Can I stay with you on weekends?” Stiles asked, directing his best (and probably terrible) impression of Scott’s puppy eyes on Derek. It was clearly a poor job because the werewolf lifted a skeptical eyebrow, but smiled regardless.

 

“You can visit on weekends.” He then reached back into the messenger bag he was wearing and pulled out the manuscript, which was thoroughly worn from reading. “After all, this is going to need a sequel.”

 

“I think you mean a Prologue Part 2.”  Stiles teased with a mischievous grin. “It'll start with Stiles and Derek's wild cross country road trip.”

 

“Actually,” Derek amended with a grin, “it'll start with Stiles and Derek house training Derek's new puppy.”

 

Stiles mouth dropped open.

 

“Wait seriously? You actually brought a puppy? Where are you supposed to keep it? Actually I don't care about that right now, I'm sure you thought about it. Show me!”

 

Derek lead Stiles up to his bedroom (because of course he'd climbed through the window) where a kennel sat in the middle of the floor. In it, a tiny husky, all red and white fluff, laying quietly on a blanket in the kennel. Stiles opened the wire door to rub a finger over its puppy soft ears.

 

“I think she's asleep.” Derek whispered.

 

“Does she have a name?” Stiles asked as he stared, totally enamoured, at the puppy. Derek shook his head and Stiles brightened as an idea immediately came to him. “What about Sparky? It's perfect! She's even the right color!”

 

The werewolf smiled fondly. “Perfect.”

  
The pair spent the summer house training Sparky, selling the loft, and catching up on years of lost time. The third time around they were finally going to get it right.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the ride and many thanks for reading!! Thanks to [this](http://darachmoon.tumblr.com/post/115512266653/hello-i-love-reading-your-meta-but-there-is-a) post for helping me gather together many of Stiles's superhuman feats.
> 
> Comments always appreciated and come visit me on [tumblr](http://a-mountain-ash.tumblr.com/)!


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